


I Think You're My Best Friend

by kazenezumi123, Whatsinthebasement



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Arachnophobia, Brief homophobia, Childhood Friends, Drama, Eren's an asshole, F/F, F/M, Jealousy, M/M, Make-outs, Sass, Sexual Tension, Sleepovers, Underage Drinking, a little smut?, boner-alert, claustrophobia (minor), fluff?, jean's an idiot, party moms, summertime adventures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2017-11-09
Packaged: 2018-03-25 04:33:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 112,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3796834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kazenezumi123/pseuds/kazenezumi123, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whatsinthebasement/pseuds/Whatsinthebasement
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean has known Marco Bodt for a very long time, a majority of his life actually. From the dirt-eating years to the not-so-great hormonal years, they’ve been through it all. It doesn’t help that Jean can’t figure out what inappropriate behavior is with his best friend‒since when was sleeping together weird? It doesn’t help that his mother (and Marco’s for that matter) are college girls in a mother’s body and want nothing more than their sons to just get married already.</p>
<p> Jean and Marco’s summer before their senior years is definitely going to be a big one; full of parties, drama, humor, and for some, heartbreak. How will Marco and Jean come to terms that what they have is a little more than just friendship?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Turn-Up Crew

I’m dead.

I’m physically, emotionally, socially, and _officially done_ with everything at this point in my life.

Okay maybe I’m just over-exaggerating, but I shit you not I have to drag my ass out of my History final on my hands and knees after the bell rings. I’ve spent the last seven months questioning why the hell I would even choose to take another History course in the first place. So what, there were walls (a _hella_ long time ago at that) and they had names. Clearly they weren’t that great if they fell so easily, I mean damn!

Finals also give me the opportunity to forget every piece of information I pick up (which is scarce, believe me) during the year and leave me staring at my paper like the dumbass I am. I end up spending more time listening to the clock tick on the wall than on filling in the little bubbles on my scantron sheet. Countless times I’ve pictured myself spelling out _I don’t know_ on the tests just to spare myself the effort of making up answers.

It does make me feel better that I had Connie in that class, so at least I wasn’t the _only_ dumbass.

Speaking of Connie, he’s in worse shape than I am.

He’s given up on life at this point and is splayed out on the floor starfish style in the hallway. He gets some wary stares as kids come out of their classrooms and walk around the poor guy. I would go over to help him, but I’m currently struggling with my own existential crisis and crouching on the floor by the water fountain. It suddenly hits me that History was my last final of Junior Year, and I mean it literally _hits_ me as in I lurch up and smack my head against the cold metal fountain hard enough to see stars.

            “Fuck!” I hiss and rub at my probably-split skull. I really hope nobody saw that. Connie lets out a loud groan in response and slowly stands up.

            “I’m done…” Connie groans and tilts his head to look at me. I can almost pinpoint the moment the light returns to his eyes and his mouth forms a round “O” shape as he sucks in a quick gasp, realization dawning on him. “I’m done! I’m done with finals!” Connie shouts, earning a pretty decent amount of stares and snickers from passing students.

            “Connie wait—” I don’t know why I bother reaching out for him to stop, he’s beyond reasoning now.

“See you bitches in the fall!” he takes off down the hallway and pounds on the passing doors with his fist. _Does he have any common sense at all?_

I have to jump up and run after him before the teachers come out and see who the hell is yelling in the hallway. Connie whips around the corner towards the staircase and when I reach it I slam into someone. Someone familiarly _massive_.

            “Kirschtein!” Reiner booms and throws me over his shoulder before I even have a chance to respond. I’m suddenly staring at the floor and being taken down the stairs like a fucking sack of potatoes.

            “Dude put me down!” I smack his arm but don’t risk doing anything else. The last thing I need is a concussion and a broken neck right after finals.

            “Nah you and Springer aren’t getting away from helping me out today.” His laugh rumbles underneath me as we make our way out of the building.

            “I have the ability to walk! And Connie got away while you were busy man-handling me!”

            “He’s not hard to find.” Reiner takes me to his orange Jeep, which is nearly as huge as he is, where Bert sits in the passenger seat. He takes off his sunglasses and waves at me with a smile.

            “Bert help me!” I squeak just as Reiner dumps me into the backseat on my face.

Fucking ow?

            “We’re getting the other one later.” Reiner tells his boyfriend and slides into the car. I assume he’s talking about Connie, ‘the one who got away’. He takes Bert’s sunglasses and puts them on with a grin. “We’re going on a booze run Kirschtein, buckle up!”

I roll my eyes and rub at the bruise forming on my forehead. The second finals are over I manage to get kidnapped by Reiner. And this isn’t the first time it’s happened. I highly doubt it’ll be the last.

I fasten my seat belt and glare out the windowless car as we fly past the school and down the residential streets of Trost. Reiner turns on the radio and blasts his music out of the door-less and topless Jeep (AKA the Death Machine) as we roar down the block and head towards the more industrial part of town.

            “Nanaba has everything set up?” Reiner shouts over the music and Bert gives him a firm nod in response. I nearly get whiplash when we fly around the corner and speed down the main street.

_I’m going to die before my senior year._

I’m convinced about this. I close my eyes and pretend to be religious enough to pray for Jesus to save me before we can collide with a truck or something. Reiner’s driving is terrifying. I don’t know how Bert manages, in fact, the dude is as calm as can be; the wind whips his dark hair around his completely neutral face as we drive.

            “Bert are you excited for graduation?” I decide to ask him; more like shout to him because Reiner’s rap music is too damn loud to converse over.

            “I don’t know it’s kind of…unreal…” Bert says barely loud enough for me to hear. I lean forward and wrap my arms around his seat to try and hear him better just as Reiner slams on the brakes.

My face is going to be fucked up by the time I get to the party.

            “YOU ASSHOLE YOU COULD’VE MADE IT!” Reiner shouts at the minivan in front of us and lays on the horn while we’re stuck at the red light. Bert sighs and puts his head in his hands, in embarrassment or exhaustion I’m not sure. Reiner turns to look at me, even though I can’t see his eyes, I know they’re gleaming. “My baby’s going to college!”

I chuckle at that and lean back in my seat. With Bert being a year older than us, Reiner had been freaking out the last three months when Bert was deciding on what college he planned on attending. Reiner was terrified that Bert would go somewhere far away, but he ended up choosing Trost University, a good twenty minutes away from their house: an easy commute and a maintained relationship.

We eventually pull into the parking lot. It belongs to the row of apartments that tower in front of us and only a few cars sit on the lot. When Reiner pulls up next to a silver sedan, I recognize the woman leaning against the hood of the car with her sunglasses resting in her short blonde hair.

            “Nanaba!” Reiner leaps out of the car and pulls the small woman into a crushing hug. Bert gives her a safer and more socially acceptable one while I just wave at her. I only know Nanaba through expeditions like this with Reiner and Bert; she’s a college student at Trost University and has a connection to Bert somehow. She’s better known as our alcohol supplier.

            “Cash first boys.” She says and holds out her hand. Reiner grumbles something about her being petty and gives her a nicely sized bundle. She counts it and smiles brightly.

            “Jean get your ass over here!” Reiner motions me over with his hand, forcing me to crawl out of the backseat and stand by them while Nanaba unlocks her trunk. She hands each of us a twelve pack of beer to take back to Reiner’s car along with enough vodka to knock out at least thirty people. Somebody went to Costco.

            “Have fun guys, but not too much fun. You’re still in high school.”

            “Yeah yeah.” Reiner waves her away as we climb back into the car. “You know if I didn’t have Bert I’d probably try to make a move on you.”

            “In your dreams!” she shouts as we pull out of the parking lot and Bert laughs at her reaction.

Reiner drives much more…legally than he did on the way to Nanaba’s; only because we’re all minors travelling with a pretty _illegal_ amount of booze in the car. At least Reiner has some common sense when it’s needed. He also turns down the radio so we can actually talk without shouting over the music or straining to hear the other person. Reiner complains about his auto body shop final and how much he hated astronomy this year. Bert tells us about the senior barbeque and the massive food fight that broke out in the cafeteria during his lunch period on the last day of school.

By the time we reach Reiner’s house it’s two o’clock. We have a good three hours before the real party starts, a good three hours for me to sit around and do absolutely nothing (my talent by the way).

            “Is Ymir coming tonight?” Bert asks Reiner as he heaves out a case of beer and a bottle of vodka.

            “Yeah, I think she’s bringing the tequila.” Reiner manages to carry three cases of beer to the back door without a problem. He kicks open the door and gestures for us to go inside.

            “Where the hell does Ymir get her liquor from?” I grumble as I shuffle through the door. Ymir’s a junior in college, or at least now she is, but she’s actually the same age as Bert. She just happened to be a genius who kept skipping grades and decided to spend her time playing in a band and taking art classes to pass the time.

            “Ymir’s a mystery to me.” Bert hums and leads the way into Reiner’s kitchen. We set all of the beer on the counter and arrange the bottles on the table while Reiner carries in the last of the supply. I’ll never stop admiring Reiner’s house; it’s _huge_. The kitchen has granite counters and a giant island where I’ve proven that it’s large enough to be my bed, along with floor-to-ceiling windows looking out into the backyard.

Reiner’s parents are also never home. They’re “free spirits” or whatever Reiner calls them, and I think I’ve only met them once since I met Reiner in seventh grade. He has a maid that shows up every once in a while, but it’s only on the occasional Sunday.

            “Oi Reiner!” I wrinkle my noise at the voice that comes from down the hall. We all turn to see Eren Jaeger come into the kitchen with a clipboard in his hand and a pen tucked behind his ear like some fucking receptionist. “You need to tell me what pizzas to order.”

Eren catches my gaze and narrows his eyes ever so slightly. A small spark of anger and irritation passes between us as we maintain eye contact. It breaks when Reiner walks back down the hall with him and they discuss the unnecessary amount of pizza they plan on ordering while Bert and I take the beers out of the box.

Let me get one thing straight: I don’t like Eren Jaeger.

He’s a douchebag and overall, a piece of shit. He thinks being on the football team makes him the coolest person in school and for some reason the school believes him. I’ve gotten in fights with him constantly since fourth grade and he’s what stands between me and Mikasa Ackerman.

Don’t even get me started on Mikasa Ackerman. No, I’ll tell you; she’s beautiful, like supermodel pretty and her voice has the softest and most delicate sound. I could write a million poems about her and still have more to say, but she’s had her eyes trained on Eren since I’ve known her. Apparently they’re childhood friends and inseparable or whatever; I guess I can kind of understand that. You know, being super close to your childhood friend.

            “Jean?” I’ve been zoning out; I nearly jump when Bert nudges me with his elbow. “You okay?”

            “Yeah! Sorry Bert.” I start stacking the beers twice as quickly as I had before. We watch the counter disappear underneath the mountain of beer cans as we try to fit beer where there isn’t space to anymore.

            “I can handle the rest, Marco’s in the living room if you want to join him.”

I feel my heart lift just by hearing his name. “Marco’s here? But he told me he wasn’t coming!”

            “Eren kidnapped him.” Bert muses and opens up a pack of red SOLO cups with a loud pop. “He’s been studying here while you were taking your finals.”

I make an “O” with my mouth and rock back on my heels. “Are you sure you’re good?”

            “I’ll just make Reiner do the rest when I’m tired.” Bert smiles back at me and turns to start setting up the table near the wall. I take that as my cue to barrel around the corner and down the hallway towards the living room. I kick off my shoes at the front door, trip over the carpet, and practically dance into the room to see Marco splayed out on the couch reading a notebook. He pretends not to see me when I approach and sit on his stomach.

            “Get your heavy…ugh, Jean!” Marco wiggles underneath me and smacks me on the head with his notebook. I only laugh at his response and settle at his feet, moving his legs so they rest on my lap.

            “What ever happened to ‘Jean I can’t come I’m busy’?”

            “I didn’t come here on my own free will.” Marco replies, his brown eyes wandering across the page before they flit up to meet mine. “Which is why I’m studying _now_ so I don’t fail chemistry tomorrow.”

            “It’s your last final, chill Marco.” I slap his bare legs and he puffs out his cheeks. I can hear Reiner and Eren talking in the dining room; they’re arguing whether people would eat more of sausage pizza or pepperoni. Who cares, we all know that Reiner’s going to eat them all in the end anyway.

I lean back into the soft couch and nuzzle the back of my head against the cushion while I stare out the window. Today’s a pretty decent Thursday, I don’t hate it because it’s officially summer for me now, and it’s not too hot for me to stop wearing jeans yet. I know it’s only going to get worse later on, when the sun starts to get too cruel and you can’t help but sweat buckets after taking only two steps outside.

I don’t bother Marco for a while; I sit quietly like a good friend and count the freckles on his tan legs. I remember when we were little I’d take markers and draw all over his skin, connecting each spot as if they formed their own constellation. He’d get so mad at me, mostly because I did it during school and he’d have to go the rest of the day with red squiggly lines all over his arms and legs.

            “How did your history final go?” Marco finally breaks the silence and looks at me over his notes. I give him a sad look and shrug my shoulders.

            “I dunno, not so good. I blanked out on a lot of stuff.”

            “I’m sure you did better than you think you did.” Marco flips the page and scowls at what he wrote. “I think I might as well give up at this point.”

I pluck a hair from his leg, making him jump with a surprised squeak.

            “You’ll be fine. You ace all of your finals anyway.”

            “Do not!”

            “Do too.”

            “Can you two stop flirting for a minute?” Eren’s standing at the archway to the living room with a pained expression. Marco rolls his eyes and tosses his notebook onto the coffee table and I wish for the ground to suck Eren up and out of existence. “If Ymir tries to be bartender, you have to tell her no. She’ll poison everyone.”

            “Sounds like a _you_ problem Eren.” I reply crassly. “The rest of us can handle tequila.”

            “No Horseface, she’s bringing something else.” Eren snaps back at me and twirls his pen between his fingers.

Marco furrows his brows and sweeps his legs off my lap. I can’t help but feel disappointed when the warmth leaves.

            “What’s she bringing?”

Eren glances down the hallway and back to us and lowers his voice to a whisper. “She’s bringing _moonshine_.”

            “She’s bringing what?!” Reiner’s voice echoes through the house before he comes storming down the stairs and pops his head around the corner. “How the hell did Ymir get that?”

Eren just shakes his head and narrows his sea-green eyes. “We’re all fucked if we drink it, so don’t let her touch your cup unless you want to destroy your liver and drop dead on Reiner’s floor for Maria to clean up later.”

            “Don’t you dare make Maria’s job any more difficult than it already is.” Reiner glares at Eren before he glances at the clock. “Someone watch out for Ymir, I’m actually concerned for my life now.” Reiner disappears back down the hallway muttering about how he plans on murdering whoever dies on his floor, logic aside.

            “Isn’t moonshine like, ninety-percent alcohol?” Marco asks.

Eren nods. “Basically jet fuel.”

The doorbell rings and Eren widens his eyes in horror; even I feel my blood run cold as we all turn to stare at the door.

Marco groans and abandons his spot next to me on the couch to answer it. We expect him to be plowed down by Ymir, but instead an equally terrifying brunette comes barging through the door.

            “The party can start now!” Sasha yells and her voice echoes through the house. She catches my eye and I swear under my breath. Here comes my headache.

            “Jeeeeaaaannnn!” Sasha sings and launches herself, and I mean literally launches herself, into my lap. I grit my teeth when her knee finds my stomach and I get the honor of having her elbow in my neck. I lightly pat her back with the hand that’s not pinned under her and smile.

            “Please get off of me Sash.” I wheeze. She flips her head to look at me, successfully slaps me in the face with her ponytail, and smiles. Marco lets in the second guest, who’s none other than Sasha’s boyfriend Thomas. He surveys the mostly empty house before he waves at us in a friendly gesture.

 I don’t really know Thomas, but I have a history with Sasha. We had sand fights in kindergarten and wrestled each other on the playground through all of elementary school. Yeah, she bullied me a little more often than I would’ve liked, but she’s still one of my closest friends. She’s been kind of distant lately though, mostly because of Thomas, who has a completely different friend group than us. Marco is more acquainted with him, and I see the two of them head towards the kitchen engaged in conversation.

Sasha slides off my lap and settles into Marco’s old spot.

            “Whatcha been up to Jeanbo?” she pats my unruly hair and smiles at me. I don’t know how to explain it but, well it doesn’t feel like a Sasha-smile. It feels forced, or maybe half-hearted to me, but to anyone else it’s just a simple smile. I’ve been getting this feeling for a while, if I had to pinpoint when it started…it would be when she started dating Thomas. The two are almost complete opposites; I don’t even know why they started dating in the first place. Thomas is quiet and polite while Sasha is loud and obnoxious as hell, it doesn’t really make sense. I don’t think that their relationship is a joke or anything, and I believe that Sasha has feelings for Thomas, but…it’s almost as if he’s extinguishing her personality. Sasha’s been more polite, she doesn’t yell unless she’s too drunk to control herself, and I haven’t seen her flash anyone at a party in a while (it usually only happens when she wears a dress… _usually_ ). Like I said, I don’t know Thomas, but I think Sasha could do better. I mean, from what I’ve heard, Sasha’s really pretty. Growing up with her has kind of dulled my senses when picking up stuff like that, but I believe it. Her eyelashes naturally curl and frame her big brown eyes on her childlike face that’s usually covered by her dark hair. She’s growing out her bangs again, but I know she’s going to give in (as usual) and keep them in the end.

            “I think we’ve all been pretty occupied with finals?” I pronounce the last word like she’s never heard it before. She makes a “psh” sound and lets out a horrible cackle.

            “Oh my boy, I don’t study for those.”

            “Yeah I know.” I mutter.

The doorbell rings again and Bert drifts down the hallway and to the door to let in the next guest, but I don’t see who it is since the door is blocking them. There’s someone laughing on the other side and Bert moves to let in a head of blonde hair who I quickly recognize as Armin.

            “Hey Jean! Hi Sasha!” Armin waves to us with one of his bright smiles. We wave back just as Eren comes storming up to him and drags him off into the kitchen mumbling about how he needs help calculating a tip for the pizza man.

 I think we all know who failed their math final this year.

            “Why is everyone so early…” Bert sighs and comes into the living room. He drops into the armchair near the door and leans back until his head rests on the back. Looks like he’s worn out already, poor guy.

            “Cheer up Bert! Early bird catches the worm!” Sasha says. I roll my eyes and peel myself out of my seat. I’m going to see what’s so damn interesting about the kitchen. I leave them to their stagnant conversation and make my way to the surprisingly packed room. Ymir’s apparently showed up; she’s placing bottle after bottle on one of the free counters and humming to herself. Thomas and Marco are sitting at the kitchen table with Eren and Armin, who are hunched over a paper and a calculator. It’s almost like they’re doing taxes rather than trying to figure out a decent tip.

I don’t see Reiner anywhere, maybe he went to get food or something. People have already started drinking; nearly everyone in the room was nursing a cup of their own. Thankfully, Ymir wasn’t standing behind the counter making drinks yet. I take that as my chance and grab a bottle of juice. I fill my cup half-way with the artificial fruit punch and then an equal amount of vodka. I live by one rule at any party: liquor before beer and you’re in the clear. Beer before liquor and you’re feeling sicker. Connie’s the only one making that mistake tonight. So far.

Sasha appears at my side and I nearly spill my drink when she taps me.

            “I think Thomas and Marco are hitting on each other.” She chirps as she pours herself a cup of vodka. I wait for her to mix something with it, but…it doesn’t happen.

            “Do you even have a liver?” I pretend not to hear her earlier comment and focus on her death concoction.

She shakes her head and takes a distasteful gulp. Ymir walks up and settles behind the island counter with one of her cynical smirks on her face. She ducks down to retrieve the blender and hooks it up; I swear I can see some sociopathic glint in her eyes right now.

            “Jean want a drink?” she asks me suddenly and pops off the top to the blender.

            “I already have one, thanks.” I point at my cup and try not to show fear. Ymir blows out a breath and starts pouring in a pretty unsafe amount of tequila into the pitcher.

            “Don’t be a little bitch.”

I grimace and Sasha snorts. I’m about to run away when Sasha pulls me back and gives Ymir a thumbs up.

            “Me and Jean are down!”

            “Oi Freckle Boy!” Ymir’s pouring ice and frozen fruit into the pitcher now. I’m a little scared, not gonna lie.

Marco pauses in the middle of his conversation with Thomas and turns to look at Ymir in confusion.

            “Get your ass over here and try my drink! You too Sideburns!”

Thomas looks offended at that. The two slowly get up and warily make their way over to the counter. You see, Eren’s warning was completely unnecessary; you don’t choose whether Ymir’s bartender or not, and you sure as hell don’t decide whether you’re going to drink what she gives you.

We all take her drinks and stare at it. A thick, purple substance that smells sickeningly sweet.

 It’s the standoff: who’s going to be the first to risk certain death for the sake of the group?

Of course it’s Marco.

He sighs and takes a tentative sip of it. I know we’re all holding our breaths as we watch his reaction. It goes from scared, to confused, to surprised.

            “Oh!” he finally says and takes another sip. “It’s really good!”

Sasha tilts the cup back and starts chugging, everyone else follows suit. Now I’m alternating between my juice and this thick ass smoothie, two conflicting flavors that make my tongue sting. Ymir’s drink is too cold for me to just finish off at once (I’m not like Sasha) and my other drink is too strong to do it either.

            “I knew you fruitcakes would love it.” Ymir’s like one of those birds puffing out their chest as she watches us drink. She must be so proud that her drinks are the ones that keep the parties interesting.

She pours herself a drink with the remains and starts working on the next one. “Yo Connie start the music!”

Connie must have arrived around the same time as Ymir; the sneaky bastard got out of carrying the booze and managed to avoid Reiner’s bullying. He does that a lot; slipping in and out of places like he was never there to begin with. He’s like a little bald weasel.

Connie shuffles towards Reiner’s expensive stereo in the corner and scrolls through an iPod that I can assume is Ymir’s. The stereo starts to play an upbeat rhythm through the kitchen and adds a little more energy to the party.

            “Ymir, I don’t see any good songs on here.” Connie whines.

Ymir shakes her head and reaches for a bottle of rum this time. “If by ‘good music’ you’re implying that Nicki bitch or Ariana what’s-her-face, you’re right I don’t.”

Connie and Sasha gasp in unison. Connie returns Ymir’s iPod to its place on the stereo and places his hand on his heart in a hurt gesture.

            “You’ve deeply offended me Ymir. Nicki is not a bitch and you know Ariana’s name. There are no top twenty songs or anything!”

            “I listen to good music.” Ymir replies and her glare prevents Connie from making any more accusations.

I walk over to the kitchen table and take a seat as far away from Eren as possible. He and Armin finally finished their calculations and are counting money on the table; I can’t help but picture them as drug dealers sorting out their money after a meet up. Those two would be a terrifying duo if they did decide to have that kind of lifestyle… Eren would be the brute who beats up the people in debt and Armin would be the cool calculated mastermind behind the empire. Now that would be a sight to see.

Marco drops into the seat next to me and plays with his cup. I watch Sasha approach Connie and the two start talking while Thomas tries to make conversation with Ymir, who looks like she’d be more interested conversing with a wall.

            “How long do we have until everyone’s wasted?” Marco murmurs to me. He must be thinking the same thing as me; Ymir’s going to have everyone flat on their face before midnight can come around.

            “Not long at all.” I knock my two cups together and raise an eyebrow at him. Marco just shakes his head and takes another sip of his drink.

The back door opens and Reiner steps in with another blonde in tow. It’s an unfamiliar-looking girl with bright blue eyes that flick around the room before settling on the floor.

            “Hey guys!” Reiner’s booming voice catches the attention of the room immediately; the room quickly falls quiet and everyone turns to look at him. The girl standing next to Reiner starts to turn pink; I don’t think she wants all of the attention on her. Hell I don’t blame her, any attention you get when you’re with Reiner is normally not the greatest kind of attention. “This is Christa, she transferred to our school a couple of weeks ago, so you probably don’t know her. She’s quite the party person if you can break through her outer shell!”

Christa throws Reiner a shy look before offering a small wave to us. “Hi guys.”

            “She’s cute right?” Reiner laughs, but he’s cut off when Ymir pushes him aside to stand in front of Christa with an unreadable expression on her face. She grips Christa by the shoulders and stares at her for a good ten seconds in silence; Christa’s face turns pinker with every second.

            “Ymir cut it out!” Reiner tries to take Christa back but Ymir fucking _growls_ at him.

            “Holy shit.” Ymir tells her. “You’re adorable.”

Christa swipes a lock of her hair from her face and smiles angelically. “Oh, thank you so much!”

Sasha whistles and takes another sip of her drink. At least I’m not the only one at a loss for words. Ymir actually interested in someone? Not only that; but the way she’s staring at Christa is almost the same way that Sasha stares at the last piece of pizza in the box: she has to have it.

Bertholdt walks into the kitchen and pauses in the archway when he senses the atmosphere. He slowly moves to stand by Reiner, who is still staring at Ymir with a concerned expression and with his mouth slightly agape.      

            “Shall we begin the party games?” Bert’s soft voice breaks the frozen atmosphere. Suddenly, I remember that there’s music playing; I also realize that Marco’s shaking beside me. At first I think he’s going into shock, but he’s laughing. It’s the kind of laugh where there’s no sound; his body just heaves while he tries to hold it in.

Why do I get the feeling that he’s already drunk? I mean I saw him with a cup before Ymir’s killer tonic but come on Marco, you lightweight.

            “I know a good game!” Sasha shouts as she pops open a beer. “I don’t know what it’s called but it’s super fun. The drunker the better!”

            “Yaass!” Connie falls right into step with her. The two gesture for us to follow them back into the living room to play the game. Reiner fills a crate with beer and carries it with him into the living room while Bert follows at his heels.

I give Marco the ‘should we go?’ look. He nods and pushes away from the table as I down the last of my first drink. Hopefully Ymir’s drink isn’t as powerful as I suspect it is; I mean it’s got Marco giggling already, but then again, that could be anything.

 

We all settle in the living room; Marco and I sit against the couch and I find my head between Sasha’s legs and Marco’s is between Connie’s. Thomas is perched on the armrest next to Sasha and he doesn’t look like he’s too thrilled about this game, or the seating arrangements.

Reiner sets the crate of beer in the center of the circle we’ve formed and sits on the floor with an excited look on his face.

            “Sasha explain the game!”

            “So we make up a scenario…oh!” Sasha moves suddenly and knees me in the back of the head. “Sorry Jean! We need paper and pencils guys!”

            “Ugh that’s so much work.” Reiner groans, but Bert’s already getting up again. He disappears around the corner and quickly returns with a handful of printer paper and pencils.

            “I don’t know if we have enough pencils, but‒”

            “We can share!” Sasha reaches for the materials and Bert hands them to her. She starts ripping the paper into strips and starts to explain the game. “So we make up a topic and everyone has to respond on a piece of paper, fold it up, and turn it in. One person reads each answer and the group has to guess who said it.”

            “I don’t really get it…” I mutter when I’m handed a pencil and a couple strips of paper. Marco nudges me playfully when he receives his paper. Once everyone’s got the game materials Sasha claps her hands together.

            “Okay topic number one! Finish the sentence: you can’t have a party without…?”

I stare at my scrap of paper and try to conjure up an idea. No one else seems to be having this problem; they’re all scribbling away with these devious little smiles on their faces. I hear Marco giggling beside me as he folds up his paper and tosses it into the center with everyone else’s. I end up writing “Beer” like the lame ass I am, and toss it into the pile.

            “Someone read them!” Sasha commands, but she points directly at Reiner.

Reiner shuffles through the paper and wrinkles his eyebrows at the first one.

            “You can’t have a party without…boners?” Sasha chuckles at that one.

            “That one’s mine!”

            “Aren’t we supposed to guess?”

            “You can guess with the others.”

Reiner clears his throat and moves on to the next one. “You can’t have a party without orgies.” The room erupts in laughter and Reiner turns to Sasha again. “What happens when you read your own? Do you have to guess yourself?”

            “You gave it away Reiner!”

            “So did you!”

The game goes by pretty slowly. It’s a painful attempt at trying to be funny and it turns out it’s actually a really hard game to play when a majority of the players are drunk. I thought I knew what kind of a person Marco was, but according to his answers in this game…I do not.

            “When did you become this disgusting?” I question him after the longest round of the game. Connie and Reiner are still arguing over who’s answer is better; neither were worthy of a winning status in my opinion.

            “It’s completely your fault.” Marco seems pretty disappointed that his beer is empty.

            “Okay I’m done with this game.” Reiner throws down the paper and sighs. A little mountain of beer cans has grown in the center of the circle and the attention span of the party has at least halved since the beginning of the game. “I’ve got another game to try.”

Reiner struggles with getting up; Bert has to assist him in not falling on his face and holds him steady when Reiner points in the direction of the staircase.

            “Everyone follow me!” he shouts, which isn’t really necessary, but I’m laughing at him anyway. Sasha mumbles some nonsense behind my head and Connie hops over us to follow Reiner. By the time we find Reiner, who’s standing by the staircase and in front of some door, we’re all confused and super hungry. Whatever happened to pizza?

            “Sasha come here.” Sasha bounces up to Reiner with a bright smile and an expectant look. He spins her around, opens the door, and pushes her inside. He shuts the door and takes a deep breath before his face breaks into one of his dangerous smiles. “Now everyone close their eyes. If I catch you peeking I’ll break you.”

I shut my eyes as quickly as my brain can comprehend the command. I’m one-hundred percent sure that the rest of the group does the same. There’s some movement and the sound of the door slamming.

            “Okay, open your eyes.” I blink and look around. Everyone looks just as confused as I am; Marco cocks his head to the side and frowns.

            “What’s going on?” he asks. Reiner leans against the wall and smirks.

            “Besides Sasha, do you notice who’s missing?”

We all look around at each other. Marco’s here, Ymir’s over there flirting with Christa, Armin and Eren are whispering to each other, Thomas is looking as awkward as always, Bert’s next to Marco, and Connie’s…

Oh wait. Where’s Connie?

            “Connie’s missing…” Armin replies slowly as if he might be mistaken. “Reiner…what is this game?”

            “I call it fated encounter.”

            “In a dark and scary room?” Eren looks just as done with Reiner as I am right now.

            “It’s a closet. It’s pretty big though.” Reiner shrugs and opens the door. A few seconds later, Connie and Sasha stumble out of the closet dazed and confused.

            “I didn’t know you felt that way about tofu Sasha.” Connie mumbles before he takes a tentative glance at Thomas. Mm, talk about an awkward moment. I’m pretty sure Connie’s a little too smug to be looking at Sasha’s boyfriend that way. We can at least assume that they didn’t make out like Reiner wanted.

            “Everyone close your eyes!” Reiner commands again. I’m starting to get a bad feeling, but I close my eyes anyway.  Soon enough I feel hands guiding me in a direction I don’t want to go.

No, no, no, nonono _please_ no.

I’m pushed and I open my eyes into darkness. I try to feel my way around; it’s big for a closet, but it’s still a closet with close walls and my head skims the top of what I assume are shelves above me.  It’s pretty empty, there’s a plastic bag or something in the corner, but that’s it. It’s not really suited for more than one person inside. Shit, if I know anything about my friends, the person they plan on sending is…

Sure enough, the door is thrown open and in the brief flash of light I see Marco’s face. He collides into me hard enough to knock me down; I fall on something hard and my hand touches something fuzzy‒then it _moves_.

Not good, this is not good.

I’m not even the one who should be panicking. Well then again, Marco is kind of crushing me right now and I can’t see anything either, so I guess that’s a small reason, but…

            “Marco, are you okay?” I reach up and my fingers find his hair. I can hear his breathing; it’s the only sound filling this cramped space.

            “I…think so.” Marco whispers back, but his voice is stiff. He moves so we’re sitting in front of each other with our knees pressed together. I keep my hands on his legs, which are shaking, to distract both myself and him. Just so he knows that I’m here, even if he can’t see me.

Marco’s claustrophobic.

I remember when we were young, I locked him in my closet as a joke and he cried for hours. I couldn’t console him, I couldn’t apologize enough, I couldn’t calm him down and his mom had to come get him. When we’re together we avoid elevators, we avoid crowded places, he’ll panic if we’re in a room with no windows, don’t even think about airplanes…

I should’ve said something. I should’ve told Reiner that we didn’t want to play, something, _anything_. If only I had said something, than Marco wouldn’t have to be in here, shit! Fated Encounter, my ass!

            “Marco talk to me.”

He’s not talking to me. He’s breathing, but he’s not breathing at his normal rate anymore. It’s getting faster and shallower; I keep my hands on his legs, which are shaking just like mine. He’s trying to keep it together. I know he’s gotten better at hiding it, he can handle being in small rooms for a short amount of time even though it makes him anxious; but I’ve never seen him go into a dark closet since the day I locked him in one.

It’s suffocating in here. I don’t know if it’s Marco’s panicked breaths making me feel this way, but this is…overwhelming. I know Marco’s not afraid of the dark, but I’m starting to become a little too aware of how dark it is. With walls too close together and air so stale it doesn’t feel breathable; it just hitches in your lungs like dust and settles inside of you.

 It’s like being trapped in a small box surrounded by nothing, like being buried alive.

This isn’t a game anymore.

I try to pull Marco up when I stand. We’re leaving now; we can’t stay in this damned closet any longer. It’s cruel, it’s scary, and it’s freaking me out. I kick a toy (I pray it’s a toy) with my foot and nearly trip over Marco who’s still on the floor.

            “I love you.” It says in a high raspy voice. It dies halfway through its sentence with an eerie hiss that lingers for longer than necessary.

Nope. Nope. _Hell to the fucking_ nope.

I’m banging on the door. I don’t fucking care anymore, get me the fuck out!

            “Marco get up!” I can’t see him; I don’t know what he’s doing, I don’t know what expression he’s making, but I know he’s scared. “Marco please say something.”

            “What do you want me to say?” His voice is quiet. I bang on the door again and press my forehead against the grainy wood. We’ve been in here twice as long as Connie and Sasha.

            “Dammit Reiner let us out! This isn’t funny anymore!”

Why am I on the verge of tears? Marco’s gripping my leg, I don’t hear the freaky ass thing I heard, things were going to be okay…right? I should be calm; I should be helping Marco through this without panicking. I mean, he’s handling it better than me and he’s the one who hates small spaces. I just need to calm down…

Suddenly Marco jumps up, nearly head-butts me, and screams. His scream prompts me to scream, and things go pretty downhill from there. So for some reason this damn door is locked, Marco is seconds away from murdering me in an attempt to break the door down, and I don’t know what’s going on anymore. There goes my plan for calm.

            “What?! What is it?!” I try to steady him with my hands but I can’t find his shoulders.

He’s trying to breathe, but its coming out in short and broken sobs.

            “Spi…der.” He manages to choke out. That’s the one fucking thing I do not want to hear.

Before I can flip my shit yet another time, the door is opened and Marco and I tumble out of the closet and onto the hardwood floor. I get a nice one-hundred and sixty pounds of Marco on my back and the unshakeable feeling of something crawling over my skin. We both scurry as far away from the closet as possible and try to stop the panic before it gets worse. It’s not easy.

And everyone’s laughing.

Marco and I flatten ourselves against the far wall and stare into the closet we were just trapped in. Everyone’s indistinct voices are too loud and it sounds like static, but I don’t care if they’re laughing, not yet.

Marco’s what I care about. I look at him and see that he’s flushed; his eyes are trained on something in the closet, something I can’t see. His breaths still haven’t returned to normal, they’re shaky and labored; watching him like this makes my blood boil. I whip my head to glare at Reiner, who thinks this is so hilarious he has to sit on his knees to hold himself together.

            “What the fuck Reiner?!” My voice comes out louder than I expect it to, and it’s enough to stop more than half of the group’s laughter. I take note that Bert was never laughing, but watching with a pained expression by the living room, as far away from the game as he could.

Reiner’s too busy laughing to answer me. Eren thinks my anger is just as funny and throws himself on Armin as he howls with laughter. Armin isn’t laughing either; he watches us with concern slowly registering on his face.

Everything burns. My face, my stomach; even my skin feels like it’s on fire. When I grab Marco’s arm and haul him to his feet I realize his skin is just as hot as mine; a sheen layer of sweat covers his arm and forehead. What he needs is space, not everyone crowded around us in an intimidating half circle of laughter and sympathetic stares.

            “Fuck you guys.” I snap at them and drag Marco down the hallway without another word. He doesn’t say anything as we walk through the empty kitchen; past the beers, the drinks, the untouched food, and the dull music playing through the room. I nearly break the glass when I throw open the patio doors and push him out into the humid night air. While we were busy playing games inside, the sky had turned from a dark orange to wispy lavender. Well, if you can even call those games—games are supposed to be fun, not traumatize or torture the people playing.

I drop down onto the grass and put my head between my knees. The air feels good, it’s starting to cool the heat radiating from my skin and the wind dries the sweat that clings to my clothes. Marco slowly seats himself next to me and leans back on his arms to look up at the sky. We don’t say anything for a while; we watch the clouds move through the sky as it slowly turns darker and a more menacing shade of navy blue. My anger settles into an annoying throb as I scowl at the sky, waiting for the wind to pick up my emotions and carry them off somewhere else.  For it to whisk away the sweat and stuffy feeling that stuck to my skin and followed me out of the closet like an evil spirit. It doesn’t take long for nature to work its magic; I soon find the tension in my arms lessening and the wrinkles between my brows smoothing themselves out as we sit in the yard.

I love summer nights. I might only be enjoying this so much because my brain is a little hazy in its current state, but I…really love summer nights. I love everything about them, the air, the temperature, the way the trees stand out against a dark sky, the feeling of cool grass between your fingers and tickling your bare legs (when you’re not wearing jeans, of course); it’s unforgettable.

I like summer nights because I usually get to spend them with my friends, even if I’m particularly angry at a majority of them right now.

            “Hey, how about we go to the pool next week?” I lean my head on my shoulder and look at him. Marco’s still watching the sky as if he were a million miles away, which he normally does when he’s drunk (I think he has weird out of body experiences when he’s really drunk). I’m surprised he hears me; he turns his head and gives me a small smile.

            “Sounds fun.” He says before he pauses. He reads my expression and presses his index finger between my eyebrows, where they were beginning to furrow again. “I’m okay Jean.”

 I measure the sincerity of his words and nod before I turn my attention back to the sky.

He’s _okay_ he says.

That could mean nothing or anything. He could be lying and passing it off as nothing, but he looks more at peace than I am right now. I’m not going to push anything more out of him, so I chew on my lip and watch the clouds drift past.

I’m too lazy to check my phone and see what time it is, but I know it’s getting a little late. Marco leans over and rests his head in the crook of my shoulder and lets out a content sigh. His hair tickles my neck and I move my head to rest it on top of his. I zone out for a while, I just take in the way the wind blows the blades of grass, the smell of Marco’s shampoo, the faint sounds of the cicadas, and the occasional airplane that flies by overhead.

Did I mention that I really love summer nights?

I don’t know how long we sit outside. I might’ve fallen asleep or something, but I’m suddenly aware of footsteps coming up from behind us. Bert bends down to smile meekly at us; his green eyes look almost black in the dark. He’s holding my shoes in his hand.

            “Do you want me to drive you guys home? I know Marco probably wants to get enough sleep for his final tomorrow.”

            “You ready to go?” I shift my shoulder a little, but Marco only responds with a light snore.

Well damn.

            “Yeah, a ride would be good.” I tell Bert and nudge Marco again. “I don’t think I’ll be able to carry this guy by myself.”

Bert nods and helps me rouse Marco from his nap. We have to stuff him into the backseat of Bert’s gray sedan and fasten his seatbelt like he’s a child. He goes right back to sleep by the time we pull out of the driveway, leaving Bert and me in comfortable silence. The radio station fills the car with soft jazz, Bert’s favorite genre, and threatens to knock me out as we make our way through the neighborhood towards our block.

            “Marco’s going to his house, right?” Bert asks quietly.

            “Yeah, I’ll make sure he gets into bed.” I say as Bert pulls over and parks in front of Marco’s house. The moderate-sized beige bungalow house stands in the center of the block, across the street and two houses over from my own.

When we hop out the car I fish for my keys in my pants’ pocket. Its times like these that having a key to your best friend’s house comes in handy. Also for the times when you want to sneak around and scare the hell out of them in the mornings.

Now, Marco isn’t the most compliant person when he’s exhausted (especially drunk). I’m sure that goes for the rest of us, but Marco is very…stubborn.

            “Marco I need you to work with me here.” Bert pleads with him while I unlock the front door. Marco takes one step out of the car and decides that that’s as far as he’ll go and Bert has to practically carry him to the front porch.

            “Marco you have legs.” I move to help Bert as we navigate up the stairs and into the foyer of the dark house. Marco mumbles something offensive to me and shuffles us toward the stairs.

            “I got it from here Bert, thanks.” I tell him with a tired smile. Bert shifts his weight to his other foot and nods.

           “I’m uh‒” he chews on his lip and gives me an apologetic look. “I’m really sorry about what Reiner did Jean, I shouldn’t have let that happen.”

I try to shift Marco’s weight over my shoulder so it doesn’t bring me to the ground.

            “It’s not your fault Bert.” I don’t tell him that it’s okay, because it’s not. I don’t know how Marco took it, I don’t know if he was too drunk to be as terrified as he normally would have been, I don’t know if this would mess with him later on. I just don’t know.

Bert nods. “Reiner’s going to get an earful when I get home.”

I laugh at that. Bert chastising Reiner would be quite the sight to see, it almost makes me regret not staying behind to see it happen. Almost.

            “I’m sure he will Bert. Enjoy the rest of the party okay?”

Bert waves goodbye and shuts the door behind him. I watch him retrieve the spare key from the potted plant on the porch and lock the front door before returning it back to its original place. Bert’s a really nice guy, he might come off as shy, but he’s the most considerate of us all.

Now that the hardest part is over, I have to take on the next challenge: getting Marco up the stairs.

            “Are you going to cooperate with me here?” I don’t expect him to answer me, but my voice prompts him to put his foot onto the first stair. It doesn’t work out so great: he makes us collide into the wall and I have to grip the railing for dear life so we don’t fall backwards. We struggle like this until we get to the middle of the staircase, where I decide to push Marco onto his knees. “Crawl up the stairs if you can’t walk.”

He moves at the slowest pace I can imagine, but we eventually get up to the second floor. I’m pretty sure Marco’s fed up with me at this point because when I try to help him up he pushes me aside, a little too hard into the wall, gets to his feet on his own, and walks into his room. I follow timidly behind him and make sure that he doesn’t trip as he navigates his room, only to face-plant onto his bed and burrow himself into his blankets.

I pull off his shoes and socks with a sigh, slide down to the floor, and settle on his carpet. I kick off my own shoes and lean my head against the edge of the mattress. It’s dead silent in the house, aside from Marco’s deep breathing (how the hell does he fall asleep that quickly?) and from the soft ticking from the clock in the hallway. I’m too damn tired to even consider moving; maybe I’ll just sit here for a while; or at least until I gather enough energy to move…

I close my eyes and succumb to the heavy weight pushing me into unconsciousness.

 

When I wake up, I’m wrapped in a blanket and staring into the sun. I’m not in the same place as I was before, so I’m assuming I’ve been asleep for a while. I managed to roll into the middle of the bedroom, a somewhat far distance from the bed, and an inch away from smacking my face on the leg of Marco’s desk.

I sit up in a daze and look around the room. It’s as neat as always, except for the bed, which is a tangled mess of blankets, sheets, and pillows, and which is also empty. Sunlight filters through the windows and illuminates the room with a warm glow; birds chirp outside, god this moment just reeks of suburbia.

I groan at the ache pounding in my skull and throw the blanket off of me. It must be early in the afternoon, maybe earlier? Marco had at least been considerate enough to throw a blanket on me after he woke up; I hope he made it to his final on time. Instead of crawling into Marco’s bed and going back to sleep (which is something I really want to do, trust me), I head downstairs and down the hall towards the kitchen. My stomach’s will is a little more powerful than my own right now.

It’s a little strange being in Marco’s house when it’s empty. I mean, I’ve been in his house without him being home, but his mom would always be humming from somewhere in the house, a light and soothing sound that made the house feel…well, lived in. When Marco’s dad died when we were in third grade, he left a strange empty presence in the house.

I’ve been friends with Marco since Kindergarten, but it didn’t stop Marco from pushing me away when his dad died. It’s not like I blame him or anything, it was one of the roughest times in his life.

I grab a bowl from the cabinet and set it on the counter. I briefly debate between cereal and oatmeal before I help myself to Marco’s box of Cheerios, but sigh when I remember that Marco’s mom Sheila only buys almond milk (I hate almond milk). I pour it into my bowl with a grumble and take a seat at the kitchen table, munching on my cereal.

I can’t help but smile when I remember the first day I met Marco. I was kind of shy back then; Mom had to carry me out of the house and across the street to meet the neighbors. I was told to behave and be friendly, but that wasn’t really in my nature back then (nor is it now). I remember going out into the backyard and seeing this boy sitting by himself playing his Gameboy with a bored look on his face. It took me a few seconds to decide whether or not to go up to him, I mean, what would I even say?

In the end, I sat next to him and bombarded him with questions: what are you playing? What kind of Pokémon is your favorite? Did you beat all the gym leaders yet? Do you have any more games? And then finally, what’s your name?

Marco was very flustered by my questions back then. He set down his Gameboy and stared at me in confusion. I had spent a few seconds thinking that he didn’t even speak English, but then he answered all of my questions in a quiet and timid voice before finally telling me his name. Mom brought me over to his house all the time, then I started going to his house after school; it was a little hard to connect to Marco at first since he preferred to be alone most of the time and I believed that I was just annoying him at first.

 He wouldn’t start conflicts with his mom, but after his dad died he’d sometimes run away from home and take refuge in my house instead. His death left Marco detached from the world and it took a while for him to start connecting with everyone else at school again. Marco still has his moments when he wants to be alone, but that’s expected. I mean, everyone gets tired of me eventually (I know it’s not like that).

I push the little O’s around in the milk and watch them twirl around each other. The clock on the wall says it’s only twelve, so Marco should be home soon if his test started at ten. I hope he wasn’t feeling too shitty for his final; he’s never been that great at handling his alcohol.

 He had been a little hesitant about drinking back when everyone had first started doing it. He was worried about ruining his liver or something. The first time he drank, he didn’t get drunk, but the second time he got _shitfaced_. He has no control over anything once a cup is put into his hands, and it kind of worries me. I’m not calling Marco a binge drinker or an alcoholic or anything, but he’s extremely…easy-going. If Ymir had given him a shot of moonshine, he would’ve taken it.

I guess I just have to keep a better eye on him. That’s my job as his best friend anyway. Marco’s responsible about everything else though; He keeps me on track in school, he tutors me in math, and he makes me go home before curfew. He’s probably the reason why Mom hasn’t murdered me yet.

Speaking of the guy, I think he’s home.

I hear the front door open and close, followed by the sound of footsteps down the hallway. I don’t move from the table, I just crunch on the bland cereal and stare at the dark wood table. The footsteps stop at the archway to the kitchen; I’m assuming that he’s noticed that I’m still here. He slowly walks over and lowers himself into the seat next to me.

            “How was the final?” I shove another spoonful into my mouth to try and mask the disgusting taste of old beer in my mouth.

Marco groans and rests his forehead on the table with a light _thunk_.

            “Come on man, even my finals weren’t that bad.”

            “You didn’t have to take your final with a hangover.” Marco mutters back. Gee, it’s so nice to see him in good spirits.

My phone buzzes in my pocket; I pull it out and stare at the obnoxious twenty messages I got from Facebook. Please tell me no one took pictures from last night, _please_.

Reiner’s added me to a new chat?

I click on it and it takes me to a chat labelled “Turn Up Crew”.

I’m going to kill Reiner the next time I see him.

I read through what he wrote and scroll through Connie and Sasha’s stupid comments before I lock the screen and set the phone next to my bowl.

            “Reiner planned a picnic in the park and mentioned something about water balloons.” I tell Marco and force down yet another spoonful of cereal. I chew slowly, waiting for his response.

            “Stupid needy friends.” He mumbles. He says something else, but I don’t understand so I pretend like I didn’t hear anything. We sit in silence for a while; I attempt to finish my cereal while Marco mopes with his head on the table.

            “I’m telling them that we’re going.” I finally say. Marco tilts his head to glare at me as I open up the chat again and type out a response.  “We’re only going for the water balloons though.”

When I look back at Marco, I swear to God, he’s passed the fuck out. With his head on the table, of all places; I swear Marco falls asleep in the weirdest positions, how he does it, I don’t know.

I let out a low chuckle and lean back in my chair with my arms folded behind my head. Marco lets out a soft snore and wrinkles his nose in his sleep. 


	2. A Wet Situation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean is having a great summer, complete with the blistering hot sun for his pasty skin, nonexistent tans, idiot friends, and of course his best friend Marco. Not like he feels anything more. Cause they’re totally just friends.

I’m pacing.

I’m splashing water on my face, staring at the ceiling, _praying to Jesus_ , everything and anything to bring down the fucking _tent_ pitched in my swim shorts.

It’s kind of funny how this happened.

It’s almost laughable how this happened just by seeing my best friend in his swimsuit. Almost.

It’s the same guy who’s currently waiting for me outside the door, probably wondering why I ran in here like my ass was on fire without an explanation or warning; I can only be grateful that this is a single bathroom and not a public one (the public one is on the other side of the pool), otherwise he would have followed me in to witness my internal meltdown.

_Not good. Nooooot good_.

No, no, no, nononono I can’t go out there like this! Like I said, this is a _public_ pool, which means everyone including _babies and grandmas_ are out there! Pretty sure I’ll get banned and possibly even arrested for this kind of thing! Is this called indecent exposure?

I can’t stay in here long enough to cause suspicion, but I can’t leave until I fix the situation. I can’t escape and I feel like a fucking caged animal.

The panic in me rises and makes me pace faster. My dick’s not going down and I don’t understand what I did to deserve this. It was a simple look, an appreciation of his bare torso in his new swimsuit; I mean it’s not like I haven’t seen him shirtless before. I know the way his hips align perfectly and how he’s been getting really amazing abs that I’m jealous of (I know I can’t be the only one) and the way his freckles splatter against his shoulders and back but there’s only a few on his chest and a couple on his hips and‒

_Oh God this is not helping me at all._

I am so fucked. I’m trapped in this little box of a bathroom with no window to escape out of like what happens in the movies, and I’ve hit enough low points in my life, but not enough to whack off on the other side of the door where my best friend is waiting for me at a god forsaken public pool!

            “Jean? Are you alright?” His voice is timid on the other side, but it’s so unexpected it makes me jump a good two feet in the air.

            “Y-yeah! I’ll be out in a sec!” I run my hands through my messy hair and try to breathe normally. It comes out shakier than I would’ve liked. I don’t understand what’s wrong with me, _God why is this happening to me_ —

_I can do this, think of gross things, think of your cat coughing up its hairballs on Mom’s new carpet…_

I wait a few more minutes before I can call it safe. I’m mentally cursing my hormones and my fucking raging thirst when I step out of the bathroom and into the humidity of the pool reception area.  It’s as empty as it was when we first stepped in; only the occasional family stops at the desk or makes their way through the shower area.

Marco sits against the wall on the opposite side of the door with my bag between his legs and a worried expression on his face. He cocks his head a little to the side when he meets my gaze; an invisible question clearly on the tip of his tongue.

_Please don’t do that Marco, it’s bad for my heart._

            “You never know when diarrhea hits man.” I say jokingly with a light shrug and smile at him; trying to get rid of the concern clouding his features. It works. He lets out a laugh before he looks around quickly.

“You don’t need to announce your digestive issues so loudly.”

“I’m not ashamed of my shit.” I take the bag from him and sling it over my shoulder before offering a hand to help him up. He graciously takes it with a snort and I heave him to his feet (not easily considering he’s bigger than me).

Marco scratches his dark hair and wrinkles his nose. “So is your stomach calm enough for swimming or do we have to wait until it’s all out of your system?”

            “I’m sensing some teasing vibes Marco.” I push him playfully into the wall when we near the entrance to the pool and smirk when he narrowly misses the garbage can. I hear his laughter behind me as I toss my bag into one of the unclaimed lawn chairs located on the deck, which is a pretty good spot considering it’s right in the shade and out of the splash zone.

The water glitters in the sunlight with a blue almost as brilliant as the sky and the smell of chlorine floods my senses. It’s not as packed as we expected it to be, but it looks like it’s adult swim time; teenagers and old people are wading around and the children are chilling out in groups by their chairs and towels.

I probably should’ve seen it coming when I neared the pool edge, but soon enough brute force knocks into me and sends me face-first into the cold water, followed by more weight to push me down. Dark, mute, and suffocating, the water covers everything and blocks out the sun for a brief moment before I resurface to hack it all out of my lungs.

While I’m dying, Marco rises gracefully and pushes his hair back with a laugh. When I try to get the water out of my eyes, he spits more in my face with a grin, which of course provokes me into tackling him back into the water, pushing his head underneath the surface and hoping for his slow death.

So this is where my relationship with Marco stands. As his best friend, I know more about him than anyone else and I spend more time with him than my own family. I know that he’s terrified of the simple thought of hurricanes and tornadoes, he will never touch an onion in his life, he can’t stand sleeping in socks, he loves to sing in the shower, and he has awful taste in music. That’s only to name a very small portion of the dirt I have on him. The reason why I’ve known him so long, since kindergarten, is because our moms are best friends and we were nearly forced upon each other twelve years ago.

I know that I should definitely not be getting boners when I see him half-naked especially because this isn’t the first time it’s happened (the boner was a first time thing though okay?!). We used to play in the sprinkler all the time in my backyard; yeah he wasn’t as ripped back then because we were seven, but still. It’s not like that at all, he’s my friend. My best guy friend and that’s it.

Nothing more, nothing less; when I say that I love him, I love him in the most friend-like way you can imagine.

_________________________________________

Marco lowers the sunglasses on his nose to give me an inquisitive look. “Jean, don’t you have to be in the sun to actually sunbathe?”

I don’t release my hold on my towel; I’ve been maintaining burrito status for the past ten minutes and I’m very happy staying like this.

            “There’s this thing called sunburn, ever heard of it?”

Marco rolls his eyes and pushes his sunglasses back into place. Not everyone can be a fuckin’ tan and freckled god like he can. I don’t think Marco’s ever gotten sunburn before; the sun only added an extra spot to his skin or a lighter shade to his hair, the lucky bastard.

            “We brought sunscreen.”

“I like being pale, thanks.” I reply with a snort and bury my nose in the dolphin-print towel. We watch a group of kids take turns hopping off the diving board. The lifeguard refuses to lay off the whistle as he blows it at these two kids trying to drown each other by the ladder.

            “Marco, remember when I kicked you off the platform right when Connie tried to do a cannonball at the same time?”

            “I try not to.” Marco flexes his toes and sighs. “That was back when things were a lot less supervised here…I almost died.”

           “I jumped in after you!” I sit up in my seat and wiggle out of my towel; exposing my legs to the glaring heat. It only takes a few seconds after kicking the towel off to feel like I’m cooking alive. I have to cross my legs and pull them back into the shade to avoid certain death.

Marco snorts at my response.

I notice a group of girls around our age looking in our general direction. Their most likely target is Marco; I mean he probably looks like a model lounging around. They notice me staring and smile before they move to get in line at the diving boards, their eyes still trained on Marco.

“It looks like they’re trying to impress you Pool God.” I muse at him. Marco laughs lightly and shakes his head.

            “It’s not easy to impress me.”

            “Unless they can do an underwater handstand, then you’ll marry them.”

            “Okay underwater handstands are hard!” Marco takes off his sunglasses and rubs at the bridge of his nose. He probably doesn’t want to get an awkward tan on his face (God forbid).

It’s my turn to roll eyes at him. The first girl is about to dive and she glances over her shoulder to check if Marco’s watching. She’s disappointed to see that Marco is busy staring at his phone instead.

“I hate having family members on Facebook.” He sighs.

            “Early birthday wishes?” I ask him with a raise of my eyebrow. Marco nods, his eyes scanning the messages with a hint of a smile.

Boy do I have plans for Marco on his birthday. I know turning seventeen isn’t as big of a deal as turning eighteen, but I’m going to make sure Marco doesn’t spend a second alone on his birthday. Call me persistent or call me obsessed, but I like to take Marco’s birthdays very seriously.

            “Why can’t they just wait until my actual birthday to tell me? And why do they have to post my baby pictures?” I watch his face turn mortified as he scrolls through the messages. “I’m not that fat anymore!”

            “Maybe you’ll get some money from them.” I watch the second girl accidently belly-flop into the deep end. “Money’s always good.”

            “Mom’s making me get a job at the bookstore.” Marco opens up the sunscreen and squirts it into his palm. He rubs it on his arms before he smears some on his legs. “She thinks it would be, quote, ‘an experience’.”

            “I think you’d get more money being a stripper though.”

“I’m already a stripper.” Marco remarks and tosses the bottle at me. I barely manage to catch it before it can hit my face. I smear the cold cream on my knees and make my way down. I hate sunscreen; it’s too greasy and it smells kind of like bananas…or at least that’s what this one smells like, and we’ve been using the same damn brand since I was a kid. The SPF seventy-five is to save my pasty ass from turning into a crisp in the sun.

            “What’s your stripper name, Constellations?” I snicker.

Marco fucking cackles at that. Loud enough to attract the attention of the group of girls and a couple old ladies a few seats away. They’re probably wondering how such an unattractive noise came out of such an attractive boy. Okay, I’ll admit it. As a man appreciating the beauty of another man, Marco was attractive (boner aside). He gets a lot of attention from girls, but unfortunately for Marco, he’s also really dense about that kind of thing. He wouldn’t know a girl was flirting with him if they made the move to kiss him (it’s happened before‒talk about awkward).

I try to control the grin threatening to split my face in half as I massage the rest of the lotion on my arms and neck. Marco tries to recover from his laugh-attack and rubs the tears out of his eyes.

            “That was the lamest name I’ve ever heard.” He finally manages to say.

            “Okay, you come up with a better one and let me know.”

We sit there for a little while longer. We watch the old ladies go in the water and wade through the shallow end in their um, gross swimsuits (no offense old ladies, but _come on_ ). This one girl is attempting to swim, but she’s actually just thrashing around in three feet of water with her arms and legs flailing all over the place. If she were in deeper water, I’d assume that she was drowning, but she constantly stood up, waded farther out, and tried again. I can tell she’s making the lifeguards nervous; their eyes follow her as she moves closer to the deep end with every repetition.

 

When the smell of chlorine gets a little too strong for my liking, I turn to look at Marco. He’s nodding off while looking at his phone, probably stuck on Pinterest or something.

            “Hey dork.” I call to him. He blinks at his phone in confusion and drags his eyes up to meet mine. “Ready to go?”

            “Hn?” He grinds a palm against his eye before stretching his arms in front of him with a yawn. “Yeah I’m ready.”

We pack up and I tie my towel around my neck cape-style. “Let’s get some water in us before we get heat stroke.”

Marco nods and yawns again, slinging the bag over his shoulder as we walk back down the hall and into the pool lobby. We stop at the vending machine by the front door and I have to wrestle the bag from Marco to dig for my wallet. I spend an embarrassing amount of time fishing around for it, and once I find it I pull out two dollar bills.

            “Such a great help.” I mutter mostly to myself rather than Marco as I stuff the first dollar in the machine. It goes in without a problem and I toss the cold bottle to Marco. The second bill decides to be a little bitch and refuses to stay in the machine. It takes a solid five tries and a string of curses for the machine to finally comply and give me my water. By the time I turn around, Marco’s already finished his and is tossing it up in the air for entertainment. He throws it higher than necessary, sending it close to the high ceiling in his bored state.

 I nudge him as I lead the way out the door and into the hot as hell summer evening.

            “A nice five hours spent.” Marco bonks me on the head lightly with his water bottle and grins like the idiot he is. I hum in agreement as I guzzle my drink, relishing in the way it soothes my dry and itchy throat.

We walk through the parking lot towards my car. Okay, it’s my dad’s car but he’s out of town which means it’s my car for a majority of the summer. It’s a pretty nice car too; a relatively new black Chevy Impala that my dad had bought on a whim, but I fucking love it. Like there’s no way in hell I’d sit in the seats with a wet swimsuit, so I’m glad we spent the past hour sitting out in the sun to dry off.

I unlock the doors and we both slide in, flinching in unison at the hot seats. Marco swears under his breath when he burns himself on the seatbelt and I turn on the car with a flick of the key. It hums to life around us and the speakers blare out Taylor Swift (thanks to Marco’s choice of radio stations). When I move to change it, Marco grabs my hand and shakes his head sternly.

            “This is my song Jean. Don’t you _dare_.”

_Jesus help me_.

            “Fine, but you better at least attempt to sing on key.” I grumble and fasten my seatbelt before I pull out of the lot. His poor rendition of “Shake it Off” fills the car as we begin the ride home. By the time I pull up in front of my house, Marco’s sang his way through three songs and somehow seems to be going strong‒he’s at least put in the effort of not sounding tone-deaf. I glare at him, waiting for him to finish the chorus (the only part he seems to know) before I cut the engine. I can already see what the few hours in the sun have done to him; his skin is a golden bronze, a little darker than his natural color, and the sun added some subtle highlights to his hair. Not a sign of sunburn in sight on his body, but definitely a few more freckles spotted his shoulders.

Marco stops singing halfway through the chorus when he notices me staring.

            “Why are you looking at me like that?” he runs a hand through his hair and narrows his eyes in suspicion. Something crosses his mind and he suddenly twists around, trying to check his back as he pats himself down. “Did you put something on me?!”

            “Not this time.” I say simply and turn the car off. Marco watches me warily, but when he sees that I’m serious, a grin finds its way back to his face.

            “You better not have.” He mumbles, but doesn’t move to get out the car. I quirk an eyebrow at him to prompt him to ask the question that seems to be knocking around in his mind.

He hesitates for a second before opening his door. He turns to get out, but glances at me over his shoulder before he goes.

            “Monday right?” he asks.

            “Monday.” I nod in affirmation. He shuts the door and I watch him cross the street with his shirt in-hand, not even bothering to put it back on as he climbs his porch steps. He goes straight for the spare key and lets himself in before he returns it to his spot. He spares me a parting wave before he steps inside and closes the door shut behind him.

I blow out a heavy breath and sink down into the black leather seat. The day had exhausted me, but that wasn’t as unusual as the way I feel at this moment. I feel like I’m still soaking in the sun; tingling on the surface of my skin as if the UV rays themselves were tickling me. I check my face in the rearview mirror, and sure enough, my face is ridiculously red; I can only blame it on my impending sunburn. I know Mom will get a kick out of this when she sees me.

A part of me doesn’t care. I’m too excited about Tuesday. Monday will simply be a play by ear, but Tuesday is going to be something special; it’s one of my favorite days of the year.

___________________________________

Monday ends up being one of the most brutal days of summer.

As I stretch a clear wrap covering over the sandwiches Marco’s mom made for the picnic I hear the news on the flat screen on the wall behind us announce the week’s weather forecast.

It sounds like we’re going to be living in the desert for the next couple of days; I swear Trost’s weather drives me insane. The summers here are ridiculously hot and miserable, and the heat stretches out until November when the weather decides to nosedive into a freezing winter vortex that lasts until May. There’s never a solid in-between; maybe we’d get a somewhat-warm day, but that was only when we were lucky. The past month has also been particularly dry, I can’t even remember the last time we saw rain, and the drought that’s plagued Trost leaves the ground cracked and desolate. In other words, Trost is a fucking suburban desert.

Outside it’s a brutal Hell of relentless UV rays and our friends want to spend the whole afternoon in it. I can’t believe I’m stupid enough to go along with them, but then again Marco would probably end up dragging me along anyway. He may not have been thrilled when I brought up the initial plan, but now the guy was as eager as ever to go outside and burn to a crisp (or in his case, gain another shade to his tan).

Marco’s humming mingles with the voices coming from the TV as he squeezes lemons into this massive pitcher his mom set out for us to use. Why he’s going through the effort to squeeze lemons by hand, I have no idea; I mean it’s all going to be swallowed by Connie and Sasha in the first ten minutes alone. Any effort on food presentation was unnecessary when it came to feeding those two; I’m sure they’d eat anything put in front of them if they didn’t have to pay for it.

Marco’s lemonade will go faster than anything else—it always does. It’s never too sweet or too sour, and if we’re lucky he’ll put sprigs of mint in it like the little fancy pants he is. I know he gets it from his mom, with the way she likes to do things by hand and add her own little twist to her dishes.

I sneak up on him and look over his shoulder as he stirs in a small amount of sugar. He doesn’t react until I reach for a cup and playfully slaps my hand away. He leaves a smear of lemon juice on my wrist and I lick it off with a grimace.

            “You have to wait.” He says sternly and takes out the spoon. I’m about to comment on how professional he looks when he (expertly) tosses the wooden spoon across the kitchen and it lands perfectly in the sink. Only years of practice can achieve that kind of thing.

            “You know Sasha and Connie are going to drink it all anyway.”

Marco adjusts the top on the pitcher and checks to make sure it’s on properly. “I can make you lemonade any time of any day, don’t be greedy.”

I pout and move away from him, grabbing the plate of sandwiches as I go. I stop at his back door and wait for him to lift the pitcher off the counter.

We slowly but surely make our way towards my car parked in the driveway. Slowly, because the pitcher is both really heavy and really shitty; it leaks everywhere, yet both of us and our mothers are too lazy to buy a new one.

            “Ugh.” Marco groans once we’re seated in the car. He doesn’t take his hands off the pitcher but he scowls at it sitting on his lap. “It’s _everywhere_.”

            “Just hold on tight.” I tell him and set the sandwiches on the back seat for safekeeping.

I drive as carefully as possible, which is rare for me, to prevent the lemonade from spilling. Every turn I take makes the lemonade slosh up against the glass, prompting a short intake of breath from Marco. The last thing I want is lemonade in my car, spilling it on him is the least of my concerns (no offense pal).

We could practically sing hallelujah when we pull in front of the park. From where we parked, I can see the figures of our friends setting up a huge blanket near the shade of some trees; the exact spot where they claimed they would be.

I grab the sandwiches and help Marco climb out of the car; he now has a nice lemonade spot on his thigh, a large dark stain on his salmon pink shorts that makes me snort at his misfortune.

            “Marco what did I tell you about accidents in the car?”

Marco adjusts the weight of the pitcher and glares daggers at me. Without a word he strides ahead towards the group, forcing me to lock the car, grab the sandwiches, and chase after him (which isn’t that hard because he’s walking pretty damn slow).

“Jean and Marco are here!” Sasha shouts and bounds up to us with a bright smile on her face. She lifts the plate out of my hands and skips back to the picnic blanket; her ponytail swinging in triumph. Connie hollers something and does a victory dance that roughly translates to ‘we’ve got the food’.

Marco sets the pitcher down carefully on the blanket and blows out a long breath of relief.

            “Marco did you pee again?” Sasha calls to him. Marco rolls his eyes just as Reiner, Bert, and Eren stumble forward with buckets in each hand.

            “Oh my God.” Reiner says slowly when he straightens up after setting his buckets down. “Jean’s wearing shorts, holy shit.”

Connie and Sasha both double take at my appearance; Thomas and Armin appear behind Eren and set down another pair of buckets.

            “It’s almost a hundred fucking degrees out, what do you expect?” I shoot back. It’s not like I wanted to wear shorts, but I didn’t want to sweat through a nice pair of pants either. I’m wearing basic summer attire: beige khaki shorts and a T-shirt, why are they picking on me?

“Can we just appreciate how Jean and Marco match?” Sasha presses a fist to her mouth and regards us fondly. “It’s the cutest thing ever!”

Marco and I glance at each other in mild confusion. I realize that we’re both wearing gray T-shirts, and both of them happen to be advertising Coca-Cola. I remember we had bought the shirts together as a joke when our mothers dragged us on a trip to one of the Coca-Cola factories (hence-a prize my mom won through one of her sweepstakes). Now the moment has finally come to haunt us.

            “It’s just a coincidence.” Marco tells her.

            “You two always match.” Connie says back, but his smile loses some of its Connie-ness when Thomas joins Sasha’s side and looks at us in curiosity.

            “Now that you mention it, you’re absolutely right…” Thomas mutters.

Now thanks to Sasha, everyone’s staring at us. I roll my eyes towards the sky and immediately regret the decision when my eyes begin to burn. But they don’t burn as much as my face as I stare at the clouds, searching for an escape.

“So who else are we waiting for?” I ask Reiner, desperate to change the subject.

            “Oh!” Reiner claps his hands and his eyes brighten. “Mikasa and Ymir are left! And then‒”

            “Don’t talk about us like we aren’t here, ass-hat.” A voice quips. Reiner turns to see Ymir walk up to the blanket with Mikasa at her side. Ymir’s face is set in her usual scowl, but today it seems a little more cynical than normal.

Mikasa doesn’t say anything, but I can’t stop staring at her. She catches my gaze and smiles politely before she moves to stand by Eren, who barely notices her presence as he yaks off to Armin about the girl he met at work.

_Ugh, if only she’d come and stand by me_! I wouldn’t be such an ass and ignore her, you know, Jean the gentleman has his good perks.

Marco elbows me in the ribs as if he can read my thoughts.

“What’s wrong Ymir? Pouting ‘cuz your new blonde girlfriend couldn’t come today?” Connie teases with a sneer on his face. Ymir blinks at him and slowly sets down her case of soda.

            “I’m coming for you first Springer.” She says in a flat monotone. I shiver, along with everyone else, and give Connie a sympathetic glance. He picked the wrong person to mess with today.

            “Well,” Reiner looks around the group and his eyes finally rest on the buckets. “Everyone gets a bucket, so we all have limited ammo. It’s basically a free for all. But!” he raises his voice when Sasha makes a start for one of the buckets. “We have to start equidistant from each other.”

There are some groans as we all pick a bucket and carry it further out into the field. I situate myself a few feet from Marco, who’s rocking back on his heels with a mischievous look in his eyes. I know he’s picking his targets and running over strategies in his mind while he waits for the rest of us to settle in our spots. Sometimes Marco scares me; he’s an unmeasurable enigma hiding behind a kind and “innocently” freckled face.

“Get ready!” Reiner bends down and hovers over his bucket, his eyes locked on his boyfriend; Bert stands unfazed and stares at his balloons with a pensive look. “Go!”

I barely have time to respond. First, I’m distracted by the fact that Bert was able to bend down and launch a water balloon directly into Reiner’s chest without a moment’s notice. Second, Ymir’s pelting Connie with water balloon after water balloon in a relentless fashion without giving him time to defend himself. I can see the fiery rage burning in her eyes as she whips them at a speed that shouldn’t be possible, and I know who I’m staying away from for the rest of the day.

I’m hit in the neck with one and water blinds me for a brief moment, preventing me from seeing the balloon that ends up hitting me in the stomach with a sharp stab.

            “I’ll get you for that!” I shout at no one in particular and grab two balloons to chuck. I manage to hit Sasha in the head and Thomas right in the ass. Score two for Kirschtein!

Marco’s bombarding Eren with perfect attacks and Eren has to dance around like an idiot to avoid some of them, but it brings him farther away from his own bucket and closer to the center of our circle.

            “Eren is defenseless!” Sasha shouts and starts whipping her water balloons in his direction. Reiner and Bert are too far in their own attacks to notice, and Connie’s busy suffering under the wrath of an angry god. He gives up completely and curls up in a ball on the grass, taking the hits with his back rather than his face; I almost feel bad for him.

I take advantage of the panic and throw one at Reiner, but I miss and end up hitting Armin instead. He smiles at the challenge and throws one back, which I’m easily able to dodge from this distance, but then one hits me in the back.

She’s grinning with a devious look in her eyes and tosses her last balloon up in her right hand. I don’t really want to throw a water balloon at her, but she’s daring me to.

I slowly rummage in my depleting supply and pick up a fat blue balloon. I pretend to throw it to catch her off guard, but it doesn’t even faze her. This girl’s got killer instincts. She dodges my balloon and nails me in the chest with hers before she darts back towards Armin and grabs another one of her balloons.

It’s warfare out here.

Balloons are flying, we’re screaming, and we’ve earned some of the attention of fellow park-goers. Kids stop their parents to watch us; some joggers take a break to spectate, and even the dogs watch the balloons fly around with interest.

I only have two more balloons left.

I target Marco, who’s completely open as he aims at Mikasa from his spot; his tongue sticking out the side of his mouth in concentration. I aim for his chest, but thanks to my awful aim, it ends up going a little lower.

Okay, _a lot lower_ than expected.

Marco hunches over at the shot that could possibly threaten the chances of his future children and Sasha lets out a delighted peal of laughter before she’s hit in the throat by a still-angry Ymir (looks like she didn’t limit herself to just Connie).

My first reaction is excitement, but when Marco doesn’t move, it quickly turns to dread.

I pick up my last balloon and jog over to him.

            “Marco? Hey are you okay? I’m sorry I wasn’t aiming there, I swear!” I touch his shoulder and lightly shake him, panic slowly rising in me. I don’t think I’ve hit him that hard, but then again the balloon didn’t break until it hit the ground and those were the worst shots.

Marco slowly lifts his head and his eyes meet mine. The most fucking coy grin I have ever seen spreads across his face and he holds me down just as someone dumps a bucket of freezing water over my head. I stumble back from him, pry my arms free, and end up bombarded by the remaining balloons. I wipe away the water clouding my vision, clutch my last balloon to my chest, and take off with no particular destination in mind, just away. I’ve been ambushed! And by Marco, of all people!

“Get him Marco!” I hear Reiner shout behind me and I bite back a curse as I fly by a bewildered kid. _No need to add the f-word to his vocabulary today._

I race through the park and I hear heavy footfalls gaining on me. I risk a glance at the ground and see a shadow advancing towards me at a terrifying speed.

Why does Marco have to be so damn fast?

Fast enough to show up to a track meet (thanks to my dare) and have the coach drool and beg him to join the team. Fast enough to catch up to me in less than five seconds without a head start. I get it, he’s athletic and I’m not, but there’s a difference. I have endurance, Marco doesn’t, but if we had to race (or in this case flee for our lives) Marco would beat me hands down. I just need to last long enough to outrun him and I might have a chance. It’s become a battle of speed and endurance, and I’m not going down without a fight.

I catch him off guard when I quickly veer to the left and dart through a group of trees clustered nearby.

I don’t stop after a branch slaps my cheek and tugs at my shirt, and I surprisingly remain standing after I trip over a root that I swear appeared out of thin air. Another benefit of mine that Marco doesn’t have: the ability to squeeze into tight spaces.

 I run for a little while longer and find myself on the other side of the park. I decide to hide behind the park’s community bathrooms; I press my back against the brick wall and try to catch my breath as quietly as possible.

My lungs are on fire and I’m completely soaked. I push back my hair to stop the water from running into my eyes and check my surroundings: no Marco. Just trees, a bench, a sleeping dog, and a trash can. I know I can’t stay here for long, but my adrenaline is fading and I don’t know where else to run. Across the street? Should I just run home and take cover? No, there’s one place left. I can aim for the gazebo on the other side of the park, there’s plenty of trees and space to dodge his attacks there; I just have to survive that huge area of open and vulnerable space.

I’m about to start off again when I see him approaching me head on like he appeared out of nowhere. It must have happened when I zoned out, but that was for less than ten seconds. Seriously, is Marco human?

There isn’t anywhere for me to run, I know he’ll catch me whichever way I go, and his smile is so evil, I _swear_ ‒

“Jeeeaaaannnn.” Marco sings as he nears closer; a balloon clenched in his fist. The trees cast an eerie shadow on his face as he emerges from them and it makes his eyes look black.

I hold my balloon desperately and press myself flat against the wall, wishing I could pass through on the other side and make my escape. This is it. This is the end.

            “Marco, we can talk this out.” I tell him.

            “No we can’t.” Marco sings back.

            “Don’t do this.”

            “It has to be done Jean.” Marco raises his hand and I can feel the end coming. I figure I have nothing left to lose and whip my balloon at him. It bounces off his chest and pops once it hits the concrete beneath our feet with a sad little splash.

So fucking _lame_.

Marco grins wider and hits me in the shoulder with his balloon. I take the impact like a champ and roll off the wall to make my escape. There’s nothing else he can do since he’s balloon-less, at least, that’s what I would like to believe, but I know that’s not the case. He makes a wild grab for my arm and I duck out of his reach to race back towards the picnic. I take an alternate route that brings me to the hill, and I figure I could use the downhill momentum to my advantage.

I wish I made better choices in my life.

Marco grabs my arm and I trip; sending us tumbling down the hill at a dangerously fast speed. The world spins by in whirls of color, and the fall is marked with moments of weightlessness mixed in with the sharp pain associated with colliding heads and limbs, and we crash to the bottom on our backs. The air is knocked from my lungs and I slowly open my eyes to stare up at the blue and cloudless sky while checking myself for injury.

 I soon find myself laughing. It comes out as a wheeze since I can’t breathe, and it scratches my throat; the smoker’s laugh makes its appearance.

I hear Marco laughing breathlessly next to me and I turn my head to look at him; the grass tickles my cheek and threatens to stab me in the eye.

His arms are spread out at his sides and like me; he stares at the sky with an ecstatic expression. I watch his broad chest rise and fall with every breath he tries to conjure in his body, and that is quickly lost to fuel his laughing. I notice how his eyes turn a cool amber in the sunlight and accentuate his dark features. He turns his head to look at me and reaches to pull out a couple grass blades from my hair before he drops his hand over his heart and lets out a gust of air.

            “That was really dangerous.” He says with a smile.

            “Yeah, and it’s your fault!”

Marco widens his eyes innocently. “ _My fault_? I’m not the one who tripped on grass!”

“You’re the one who grabbed me!”

            “You tripped on grass.” Marco pronounces the words slowly and leans closer with a playful smile. I narrow my eyes at him and stick out my tongue, eliciting another wheezy laugh from him.

            “Are you two alright?” Bert leans over us with a worried expression on his face while either sweat or water darkens his grey T-shirt (honestly it could be either or, but I’m guessing sweat). Armin appears a few seconds later; his bangs pushed back to reveal a forehead I forgot he had. They run their eyes over us in a panic, probably checking for obvious broken bones and blood stains. Marco and I have sustained heavier damage than this, in fact, the hill was child’s play (don’t let your kids roll down hills—still fucking dangerous).

It goes to show which ones are the responsible and actually good friends. I can hear Eren and Reiner’s laughter approaching us slowly but surely.

“That was awesome!” Eren yells at us and Reiner gives us a round of applause. Everyone except Bert and Armin join in, and I roll my eyes and carefully sit up. The blue sky is replaced with the vibrant colors of the park: splashes of green and brown, speckled with some idiots I’m far too familiar with.

Marco dusts the grass off his shorts and wrinkles his nose at our friends.

            “Glad you guys got a kick out of it.” He mutters.

I get up and check my shorts for grass stains. I can only imagine how green my ass is right now. When I look over at Marco I see him wring out his soaked shirt and Reiner whistles at him.

            “Yo guys check out Marco’s abs.” Reiner says, a little louder than necessary. I figure it must be a football player thing—Connie smiles and rubs his chin, looking impressed at what he sees. I don’t bother looking; I know well enough what Marco’s stomach looks like.

            “Talk about fan service!”

Sasha steps forward and lifts up Marco’s shirt farther, earning a disapproving sound from Marco, and stares at his stomach for a solid ten seconds before she proceeds to lift up my shirt.

            “Oh, Jean’s packing a little six pack of his own!” she finally says and jabs me in the stomach. I don’t know why, but my face is burning and I quickly pull down my shirt.

            “Cut it out Sasha!”

Marco laughs, as carefree as ever, and follows the group back towards the picnic blanket in the safety of the shade.

I feel like I’m burning alive, but you know, I don’t hate it. The sun dries my shirt and hair; it’s a nice stinging sensation on the back of my neck (which is going to end up being sunburn again, I know), and I feel extremely…alive. That or I’m actually having a heatstroke and dying.

I follow my friends at my own pace and take in how joined the group looks. Sasha linked arms with Mikasa and is skipping happily between her and Armin with a smile plastered on her tan face. Reiner has his arm around Bert lovingly, and Eren’s throwing Ymir some wary looks as he walks beside her. Connie lingers behind Mikasa, and Thomas has an arm draped over Marco’s shoulders while they chat, and judging from how red Thomas’s shoulders are right now, his sunburn is going to be much worse than mine.

I may talk a lot of shit about my friends, but I love every single one of them (except Eren, I dunno about Thomas either). They may be annoying as hell sometimes (all the time), but I’d be nothing without them. They keep me tethered to the outside world and I’m grateful for that; I mean how lucky can I be, I’ve been friends with these guys since elementary school and we’re still friends—aside from Bert and Reiner, who didn’t move to Trost until sixth grade, but you know what I mean. Not many people can maintain a relationship for twelve plus years, but we all did. I think that deserves a medal. Somehow Marco’s managed to put up with me for twelve years and I don’t know how he did it, but he did. The guy is just a mythical creature, that’s all—or an extreme figment of my imagination, but I’m pretty sure he’s real.

Marco’s back is wet with either water or sweat, but he still manages to pull it off like a picture perfect summer model with his athletic build or whatever. I don’t know how he does it, and his perfectness annoys me. I stare daggers at his back until he turns around to look at me. He notices the distance I’ve put between the group and myself and raises a dark eyebrow. A silent question: _Is everything alright?_

I wave as enthusiastically as possible, put a huge smile on my face, and let it slip off just as quickly so he can see how not amused I am at him right now. He rolls his eyes but a smile nevertheless brightens his face just like how the sun brings the color into his cheeks. He sticks his tongue out at me and turns back into his conversation with Thomas and I can hear his laugh from back here, and I think today was a pretty good day.

Despite it being a hundred degrees out, my ass being soaked and grass stained, my skin slowly turning into a personal solar panel, and _despite_ being bullied by my friends and knocked down hills and the public sexual harassment (with Sasha more is yet to come)...yeah, I can admit when I’m having fun.

Today was a really good day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to get out guys! I’ve been busy with working at a day care job for 8 hours a day, 5 days a week so that doesn’t leave much time for editing, and then I was on vacation a few weeks ago….I know I need to stop with the excuses and just do it! Also I totally feel Marco when he can’t stand touching an onion in his life-I can’t stand them, and I hate that watering sensation when you cut them too….it’s the absolute worst! Anyways I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, hopefully I’ll be faster with the next one….and we’re both heading off to college in about a month, so who knows how things will turn out!  
> ^^^  
> ya sorry guys! we didn't die or anything, things just kinda pile on you over time! Don't worry, I'm getting ahead with the writing during the long breaks too! Don't hate me!


	3. Caught in the Spiderweb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today would be just like any other regular day, except today is Marco’s birthday. And Jean is determined to make the day into something special enough for his best friend. Because Marco deserves the best. Always.

June sixteenth comes quietly just like any other day.

Be that as it may, it doesn’t feel like any other day to me; I wake up twenty minutes before my alarm and spend most of my time showering and getting dressed, nearly bouncing off the walls. And this never happens, believe me.

I dance into a pair of skinny jeans and tug on a red t-shirt before I examine my damp hair in the mirror. It’s not too bad today, I think I can get away with a few curls and knots without attracting too much attention to my head. I take a few steps away from the mirror before I decide against it; today’s a special occasion, and it’s worth brushing my hair for.

Today is Marco’s seventeenth birthday.

I don’t have the patience to brush my hair thoroughly; I just yank the brush through my wet hair until it doesn’t catch anymore. Thank God my hair is short; otherwise mornings would be more miserable than they needed to be.

I run down the stairs and nearly fly past my mother in the living room. She’s stretched out on the couch reading one of her fashion magazines, a glass of orange juice an arm-reach away and in a wine glass. _Typical_.

                “Morning Mom!” I peek around the doorframe and she turns to look at me. She has her light blonde hair piled on top of her head in a bun and her make-up is already perfectly in place.

                “Good morning Jean.” She says her words slowly as a smile creeps up on her young face. “Someone’s in a good mood today, I wonder why?”

                “I dunno.” I shrug and walk over to her. As I get closer I can see that she’s also looking at one of those stupid sweepstakes cards again. “Mom, are you ever going to stop signing up for those?”

                “Never.” She says resolutely and lets out an airy laugh. “I win often enough, so why stop?”

My eyes fall on the stack of boxes in the corner of the room, filled with prizes that she’s won over the course of the past three months. One day those boxes are going to fill the living room and take over the house.

                “I think you have a problem.”

                “Oh shoo, you’re just like your father.” She grumbles and drops back into her comfortable position. “Go take birthday boy wherever and I’ll see you later.”

                “Yeah yeah.” I pat the top of her bun just to annoy her, and open the heavy front door.

It’s like stepping into a sauna.

It’s only eight o’clock, so why the hell is the weather this brutal? The humidity doesn’t help anything; it’s like breathing through a thick fog and it makes my hair even worse than it normally is. I can feel it sticking to my temples and absorbing the summer heat.

 I have to prepare myself for a few seconds before I close the front door behind me and step off the porch. Someone down the block is mowing the lawn despite the weather (crazy ass neighbors) and the birds are singing about how today is going to be just like any other day.

Whatever. I’m excited.

So I dart across the street and towards Marco’s house. I can feel the bubble of anticipation and excitement rushing through my veins and I don’t even know why I’m so high-strung. If I had this kind of energy every day, I’m sure I’d be a much more productive person.

When I climb the porch steps and peek through the window, I don’t see anyone in the living room or the hallway. The house is quiet and still; the only movement comes from the curtains as they’re moved by the light breeze through an open window. I wonder if Sheila’s awake yet.

I unlock the front door with my key and step inside, knocking lightly on the wall to see if anyone’s around. I don’t get a response until after I shut the front door; Sheila pops her head around the corner and motions for me to join her in the kitchen.

I kick off my shoes and pad down the hallway, pausing at the archway to see her leaning over a cookbook with her tongue out in concentration.

                “Good morning Sheila.” I step into the kitchen and lean against the sink. She smiles into the book before she tilts her head to direct it at me; her dark eyes are shining as always.

                “Good morning darling.” She says and eyes my hair with a disappointed look. She takes a few steps towards me and starts running her thin hands through my hair as she speaks. “You have quite the gall coming over to wake Marco up before ten A.M during summer vacation. Not even I attempt that sort of thing.”

I wince when she straightens out a knot I missed. “Well, I want us to get an early start for his birthday.”

Sheila hums in agreement and continues working on my hair. “Can you believe that child told me he didn’t want anything for his birthday? I was so offended.”

                “So offended that you bought him twenty other presents?”

                “That’s what he gets. Trying to be considerate to me, nuh uh— Jean, how did Emma let you leave with your hair like this?”

I lean my head over to relieve the strain she’s putting on my neck as she works. She’s a head shorter than me, so I have to bend down a little to let her work.

                “I think Mom has just given up on my hair at this point.”

                “Boys.” Sheila sighs and releases her hold on my head. I scratch at my undercut out of habit and run my fingers through the top. Surprisingly, my fingers don’t catch and I swear Marco’s mom is a miracle worker. In a way, the two are nearly identical, Marco and his mom. They both have the same dark and glossy hair; Sheila’s is wavy and falls past her shoulders like a shiny curtain while Marco’s hair is thick and straight. Sheila and Marco share the same eyes and the same smile, creating equal effects of warmth and happiness on whoever is lucky enough to receive their attention.

Marco gets his freckles from his mom, but she normally covers them up with make-up, claiming that they make her look too childish—which I don’t agree with; I think her freckles are beautiful, and I have her to thank for Marco’s nickname. Today Sheila’s not covering them up, and they dust across the bridge of her nose, just like Marco’s, with a few spotting her cheeks and neck. She doesn’t have as many as her son, but they’re still prominent on her light skin.

I’m sure that Marco gets his angular features from his father, a man I had only met a few times, but enough times to have a dim memory of his face. Sheila’s round face and tiny nose aren’t evident on Marco whatsoever, and the same thing applies to me. I know that I have my father’s eyes and my mother’s nose, but other than that things just got jumbled up with the genetics.  My hair couldn’t decide whether it wanted to be blonde or brown and my sharp features had to have come from somewhere, but here I am.

                “Well, if you have time after waking up the grouch,” Sheila turns back to her cookbook and raises an eyebrow at me. “I found Marco’s baby album if you’re interested.”

I love the mischievous glint in her eyes. I smile broadly back at her and gesture towards the stairs.

                “You can count on that! I’ll be back.” With that I turn on my heels and make my way up the staircase, careful to not step on any creaky stairs or trip on the carpet when I reach the landing. I’m greeted by framed baby photos of Marco and family portraits as I tiptoe towards the only closed door on the floor.

As I slowly push the door open I’m welcomed by the warm sunlight pooling in the center of the room from Marco’s windows, reflecting the alternate colors of green and white throughout his room. I see a mess of dark hair on a pillow and hear his soft breathing as I walk across the room and perch myself on the edge of his bed.

               “Marco.” I say softly and rub his shoulder. When he doesn’t respond, I shake him harder, earning an angry grumble.

                “ _Go away_.”

                “Marco it’s your favorite person in the world.” I pull at his shirt, which is riding up his stomach and awarding me a generous display of his abs.

He turns over onto his back and peeks at me through one of his eyes.

               “Favorite person…”he mumbles, and it sounds like he’s sleep talking. I pat his chest to keep him anchored to reality.

                “Yes, I’m here to wish you a happy birthday and to take you on an adventure.”

Marco sighs and peels both of his eyes open. “Why would you wake me up this early if it’s my birthday?”

                “It’s only,” I turn to look at his alarm clock, “eight-thirty, come on sleepyhead.”

Marco scowls at me for a few seconds and reaches for my neck. He pulls me into a tight hug, with my cheek resting on his chest and my neck underneath his arms. He’s warm and I can feel the slow rise and fall of his chest when he breathes. We stay like this for a while, and right when I think that he’s fallen asleep again, he whispers in my ear.

                “I should kill you.”

I roll my eyes at his reaction, unfazed by his half-hearted suggestion. He could try to kill me if he wanted, but I have something he wants.

                “And here I was going to treat you to pancakes.” I sigh. Marco stiffens around me and then the pressure leaves my neck. I turn my head to look at his reaction.

Wide brown eyes and a bright smile greet me.

                “Really?”

                “I dunno, weren’t you going to kill me?”

Marco pushes himself up into a sitting position and rubs at his eyes.

                “I think I can spare you if we’re going to the Pancake House…”

I sit up and smirk at him. “Where else would we go?”

Marco chuckles under his breath and runs his hands through his bed-head. With the sun coming through the windows I can see the individual colors that make up his hair: gold, brown, and red that all come together to make a rich dark brown. He shuts his eyes and I see his dark eyelashes rest on his cheeks, long and full like the rest of his hair.

                “Can I at least shower first?” He asks and opens an eye to look at me.

I shrug. “Is that your birthday wish?”

Marco rolls his eyes and climbs out of bed, allowing his shirt to fall back down over his torso, and pads off to his connecting bathroom. The door closes and I shortly hear the shower start up, cueing my chance to go back downstairs and get my future blackmail pictures.

 

                “This isn’t even close to the entire photo collection.” Sheila says as she hands me the thick bound album. I set it on my knees and run my hand over the title. The cheesy ‘It’s a boy!’ cover with blue writing makes my mouth quirk up at the edges. Sheila sits next to me on the couch and watches as I flip to the first page where it has Marco’s little profile. Born June sixteenth at two in the afternoon, and weighed a healthy eight pounds and five ounces. The next page was a picture of Sheila holding him when he was just born; hard to believe that such a pink and wrinkled baby would end up looking like Marco.

                “He was so tiny, can you believe that?” Sheila coos from my shoulder and runs her finger over Marco’s little face. As we make our way through the book, I watch Marco’s face grow into a more…well, Marco-like face. It’s weird seeing him without freckles in his baby pictures, but it only takes two or so years for them to start decorating his skin in the way I recognize.

 Along the way I make sure to snap pictures of him in the bathtub with my phone while Sheila squeals over how cute Marco’s butt is. We get to the pictures of Marco with his dad, sitting on his lap at family gatherings, playing at the park, and he looks so happy. Little chubby fingers hold onto his dad’s tan arm, and his dad looks so _young_. This was exactly how I remembered him; too young to die in the eyes of a child. You’d expect someone older and more experienced with gray hair and an aching back, someone who couldn’t go outside to play with you anymore, to die. Instead it was a young man without a trace of wrinkles or gray strands. A man with bright green eyes and dark hair smiled back at me through the picture and I can see where Marco gets his good looks from. Saddled up with a beautiful mom and a handsome dad, no wonder Marco’s set for life in the looks department.

I find myself running a finger over the picture of Marco’s dad as my mind wanders. He was young, he ran four miles every morning before work, he ate an organic and healthy meal every day, and he was the definition of a healthy suburban dad…At least, maybe on the outside.

Because something on the inside had stopped working, and it was so sudden no one saw it coming, not even Mr. Bodt himself. Death isn’t picky about who it takes, it comes for all of us in the end. And it came for him on a perfectly sunny day while he was mowing the backyard. A heart attack, my parents told me. But why would Mr. Bodt have a heart attack? He was a lean man who exercised on a daily basis and took his son to baseball games and ran around with us at the park, how could he have a heart attack?

                “It was in his genetics.” My mother had said, and I was terrified. Did this mean that no matter what lifestyle I chose, no matter how healthy a man tried to be, genetics would beat everything in the end and control how long I lived? Cancer, strokes, heart attacks, there were too many things to avoid in the world, how the hell was I supposed to live a full and healthy life? I cried because I was scared for Marco, did this mean it was in his genetics too? Would he drop dead on the playground during recess without a warning sign?

I can’t even imagine what it was like for Marco. The fear in his eyes when the principal came to our class to bring him down to the office was unforgettable. It was almost as if he knew something bad had happened that day; he was out of it and didn’t want to play with the class like he normally did, so we walked around the park until it was time to go back inside. It was as if he could feel that his father was gone.

                “Can you believe he was only thirty four?” Sheila’s voice is quiet as she stares at her late husband. “Healthy as a horse, or so we thought, but…”

                “I uh…” I swallow the lump in my throat and turn to the next page where Marco’s wearing a safari hat and holding his dad’s hand. “God, you guys look so happy in these photos.”

Sheila nods sadly and offers me a smile that doesn’t exactly reach her eyes.

                “Marco was closer to his father at the time than he was with me.”

I turn to the next page and see a picture of Marco and I dressed up for Halloween. What year was it, kindergarten? That was the year we first met, so it would make sense. Marco’s dressed up as a skeleton and I’m dressed up as the devil; two toothy grins directed at the person holding the camera with our trick or treat bags held high. I can’t help but smile at the memory. I flip through pages and pages of our memories together; camping trips, middle school graduation, the works, and I see how much we’ve grown together…it’s kind of weird. We look the same to each other, but seeing how much we’ve grown…that’s a lot of time invested into a friendship.

I finally come to the end of the book and I hear Sheila sniff beside me.

                “I’m so lucky…” she stares at the book in my hands and wipes the corner of her eye, tears threatening her eye makeup. “I got to see my two boys grow into such fine young men.”

I chew on my lower lip and set the album onto the glass coffee table in front of us. I’m not one for sappy moments, but my eyes are stinging.

                “We’re not done yet.” I sit up a little straighter and grin at her.

                “That’s very true, you still don’t know how to comb your hair properly and Marco can’t even remember to take the garbage out.” Sheila falls back on the couch and presses a hand against her forehead. “What are we going to do with you two? I’m sure Emma’s thinking the same…”

We hear footsteps coming down the stairs and soon enough Marco appears at the entryway with a wary expression.

                “What are you two doing?” His hair is still wet and spiky, and his face is still flushed from the heat of the shower. He’s wearing a casual, but nice blue button down shirt and khaki shorts and I wonder who he’s trying to impress today.

                “Marco!” Sheila whips around to glare at her son. “How dare you grow up on me!”

Marco stares back at her in confusion. His eyebrows slowly furrow into a forced scowl and he puts his hands on his hips.

                “Well excuse me.” He tries to sound offended. “But someone told me the other day that I needed a job! And I can’t stop growing!”

Sheila snickers back at her son and hops to her feet.

                “I wish my Marco could be a baby forever but you just keep getting older and older.” I watch her pull Marco into a hug in the middle of the living room. Marco rests his chin on his mother’s shoulder and gives her a few reassuring pats on the back when he suddenly makes eye contact with me. I smile back at him and stick out my tongue. I watch Sheila comb her fingers through her son’s wet hair; her words come out warm and loving. “Happy birthday honey.”

                “Thanks Mom.” Marco murmurs back and he directs his blindingly white smile at me.

                “Alright, off you two go, get out of my house.” Sheila pushes Marco away from her and gestures to the door. “I’m sure Jean has things planned for you, so hop on it.”

I see Marco roll his eyes at his mother while I slide out of my seat and head to the front door.

                “Jean, make sure both of you get back here tonight at six sharp.” Sheila presses an index finger to the tip of my nose after I put my shoes on. She searches my face for a minute before she adds as an afterthought, “in one piece.”

                “Yes ma’am!” I salute her and pull Freckles out the door by the arm. “Six sharp, we’ll be here!”

                “Good.” She stands at the doorway and watches us cross the street to get in my car. She offers a small wave as we pull off and I make sure to honk at her as we drive away.

                “Don’t humor her Jean.” Marco tweaks with the radio until he finds a station he likes. “It’ll just fuel her motherly antics.”

                “Well I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry as hell.” I ignore his comment and watch the houses fade away and turn into shops and parking lots. Marco mumbles a ‘me too’ beside me and I search for parking outside the Pancake House. I’m lucky enough to find a spot in the back and nab it before an old man in a Lincoln can get to it. You snooze you lose, man.

                

“Are you ordering the usual or are you actually going to try something new for once?” I jingle the car keys and press lock over my shoulder. The car’s chirp echoes behind us as we make our way towards the front door.

                “Well, if you’re going to judge me I’ll keep it a secret.” Marco scoffs and holds the door open for us to step inside. It’s a little packed, as usual, and I can hear the buzz of different conversations rolling through the air mixed with the cries and garbles of babies.

                “Table for two?” a waitress breezes up to us so quickly I barely have time to respond. Her eyes flick across the room faster than I’d like to believe possible before she cranes her neck and gestures to us. “This way please!”

We follow the blonde girl through a maze of tables and chairs until we reach the back corner of the restaurant where, lucky us, a booth had just opened up. She drops the menus onto the table and eagerly pulls out a notepad before we can even sit down.

                “Can I get you any drinks for now?”

                “Just water’s fine.” Marco tells her and she zips away just like that. I give him an annoyed look and settle deeper into my cushioned seat.

                “What if I wanted orange juice?”

                “Like you’d drink orange juice in the morning.” Marco drops his chin into his hand and smiles at me. It’s a genuine, not-annoyed-at-Jean or half-awake smile, but one of his usual ones. It lights up his face and makes me smile back at him.

                “You know me too well. I also know that you’re going to order the double stacked chocolate chip pancake plate.”

Marco’s grin widens. “And you can’t stop me.”

I roll my eyes as the waitress drops off our two glasses of water and takes our orders back to the kitchen.

Marco sips at his water but keeps his eyes trained on me as if he were searching for the answer to every question in the universe. I decide to make up different patterns on his cheeks and the bridge of his nose by connecting his freckles with an imaginary sharpie. When I get annoyed with his staring, I picture myself drawing a penis right below his eye. It makes me snort and blow bubbles into my drink.

                “Stop laughing at me.” Marco says around his straw and narrows his eyes.

                “How’s your birthday so far?”

Marco twists around in his seat and stares at something for a while before he turns back to me.

                “Well Jean, considering that it’s nine-thirty and I woke up an hour ago…it’s pretty decent.” He tones down his sass and smiles at me. “But I’m having a lot of fun.”

I cough into my fist and thank the heavens when the waitress returns with our plates. Marco’s eyes widen at his breakfast and he reaches for his fork a lot faster than he normally does in the mornings. He gnaws away at his chocolate pancakes while I chip away at my blueberry pancakes; I take advantage of his distracted state and search for a certain girl incognito.

I finally find her standing by one of the water fountains conversing with three other employees. Her long hair is pulled back into a ponytail and her brown eyes widen when she meets my gaze. I see her tell them something and she points at me before giving the thumbs up. Thank God Sasha got a job at the pancake house over the summer, and the best part…Marco doesn’t even know.

                “You think you’d be up for desert?” I scoop up another piece of my pancake and take notice that Marco’s nearly done with his plate. Where the hell does he put all of that food?

                “Desert? No, I really shouldn’t…” He stares at his plate as if he’s hoping more food will appear onto it. I slide one of my pancakes onto his plate and earn another happy grin from him.

                “You shouldn’t, but you want to. Indulge man, it’s your birthday and I’m paying.” I see Sasha come out with a herd of employees following behind her, carrying those sound makers that you blow into and they curl up. Sasha’s also holding a plate with a pretty nice looking brownie in the center surrounded by ice cream and illuminated with candles. Sasha starts to sing happy birthday loudly—catching the attention of everyone in the restaurant—and I see Marco freeze in his seat, a mask of horror etched on his face.

                “No…” he slowly turns to see Sasha grinning back at him and she stops at our table while the rest of her group spreads out to surround us and fills the restaurant with their off-key singing. I clap along and laugh as I watch Marco’s face turn progressively red, and Sasha musses up his hair after she sets down the plate and finishes the song.

                “Make a wish birthday boy!”

Marco throws the two of us a death glare before he blows out the candles and I hope he didn’t wish for one of us to die an unnatural death.

The workers explode into applause and quickly disperse back to their stations, and we earn quite a few rounds of applause from the customers as well. Some of them even shout happy birthday to Marco from across the room.

Marco stares at his brownie without a recognizable emotion on his face after they leave. I lean on the table and poke at the brownie with my fork.

                “See, visiting Sasha at work has its perks.”

He looks up at me and blinks, a smile threatening the edges of his mouth. The red is starting to fade from his face and he doesn’t look as mad as he did earlier.

                “You’re ridiculous, you know that?” he finally says to me.

                “This isn’t new to you.” I reply and break off a piece of his brownie. He laughs in response and starts eating his half of the brownie, content clear on his face. We eat like this for a while until the waitress drops off the check and tells Marco happy birthday again before moving on to her next table.

I dig through my pocket and pay the bill at the front, waving to Sasha as we head out. She salutes me with a toothy grin and gawks at the tip I slip into her pocket.

 

                “Jean…” Marco’s voice makes me stop in the parking lot. I turn to look at him and raise an eyebrow.

                “What’s up?”

He takes a few steps until he’s standing beside me.

                “Thanks for breakfast.” He smiles at me like the beaming ray of sunshine he is. It doesn’t stop me from swiping my thumb across his chin with a frown on my face.

                “Ya got syrup on your face you child.” I tell him and straighten the collar of his shirt while I’m at it. I smile when he sticks out his lower lip in a pout. “And you’re welcome Freckles, happy birthday.”

I turn away from him and unlock the car door with a click of the button.

                “But you know there’s still the rest of the day.” I tell him as he drops into the passenger seat.

                “What else could we possibly do?”

A wicked grin stretches across my face as I pull out of the parking lot.

                “Oh just you wait.”

 

 

                “Jean? Hey wait—where are you taking me?”

                “Shut up and get in the car Marco.” I push him down into the seat and fasten his seatbelt. He picks at the blindfold on his face and I smack his hand away. “And if you take off the blindfold I’m going to murder you.”

                “I thought we were going to hang out at your place until dinner.”

I don’t respond until I climb into the drivers’ seat and start the engine. Yeah that’s what I said, but how boring would that be?

                “Not quite, I got a little more than that planned for you.” I pull out of my driveway and we make our way towards Reiner’s house. A birthday without a surprise party is just not acceptable in my book, even if Marco isn’t the biggest fan of surprises.

                “I hate not knowing things.” He grumbles and crosses his arms as we drive and I laugh at him. He can pout all he likes, but once he sees the extravaganza Reiner’s planned, he’ll piss his pants.

                “And we’re here.” I park out front and from where we sit in the car, I can see a massive bounce house in the backyard. The smell of barbeque fills the air and I can hear music blasting out of the speakers.

I make my way around the car and open the door for Marco, helping him out, and lead him to the backyard where everyone’s waiting. Once we get to the back porch and I see our group of friends in their little circle, I pull off the blindfold for him to see everyone as they shout happy birthday and throw confetti over his head. He watches the colorful strands flutter to the ground in muted shock.

                “Now we can get this party started!” Reiner cranks up the music even louder and returns to his grill, flipping burgers as he dances to the music. Bert’s assisting Ymir with drinks and keeping a close watch on her so she doesn’t spike anything before the party can even start. I notice Christa organizing the bottles of drinks and shot glasses at Ymir’s side and she smiles at me when I meet her gaze.

“Jean…what is this?” I can’t label the emotion that’s on his face, but I can only hope he’s surprised in the good way.

“A surprise party! Everyone got together and planned this for you!” I clap him on the back and give him a wide smile. “I told you today was a special day.”

Marco just blinks at me, until suddenly his trademark smile makes its appearance. He pulls me into a crushing hug, forcing a somewhat obscene sound out of me until he lets me go.

“Thank you.” His words remind me of dripping honey; it’s too sweet and warm for me so I wave him away.

“Don’t thank me man thank Reiner, it’s his house. Go have fun.” I spare him a parting glance before he obeys, heading towards a group of friends near the deck. I make my way towards my bald companion instead.

                “Yo Connie.” I bump into him as he dribbles a basketball on the pavement of Reiner’s driveway; his eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

                “Hey man.” He shoots, but the ball bounces off the rim and rolls somewhere into the bushes. Connie doesn’t deem it worth going after and turns to give me a wide smile. “Are we turning up tonight, or what?”

                “Sadly, no.” I bury my hands deep into my pockets and watch Marco receive hugs from Thomas, his friend Hannah, and Mina. “I have to keep Marco somewhat sober tonight, dinner with the fam later.”

                “Ahh.” Connie nods. “Well, hopefully you and Mina avoid any issues today, yeah? She’s been giving you the side eye since you showed.”

I turn my head to glare at Mina from across the yard. She’s patting Marco’s arm and saying something (most likely irrelevant to anything) when she meets my gaze; from here I can see her click her fucking tongue.

God I hate Mina.

More than I hate Eren…and that’s saying something. Maybe because even though I can say I hate him, I can still call him my friend, in a weird way. But with Mina, she’s not my friend, she’s Marco’s friend, so I don’t have to like her. She doesn’t even try to be nice to me anymore so I don’t bother with her. She’s always Marco-this and Marco-that, and clings to him like he’s the only friend she has. I dunno, it’s probably true since she’s so fucking annoying.

Speaking of annoying, I can hear Eren making a ruckus inside the bounce house with Armin. He’s shouting about something stupid and throwing himself against the walls, threatening to break the inflatable structure.

                “Eren if you break that you owe me three hundred dollars!” Reiner shouts from his spot at the grill and gives Bert a tired shake of his head. I doubt Eren heard him because he’s still doing it.

                “Man, I have to wait until three for Sasha to get out of work.” Connie groans and I see his eyes fall on Thomas, I don’t know if it was intentional or not, but his face gets a little darker after he sees the other guy patting Marco on the back. “Might as well get drunk to pass the time.”

                “I hear that.” I sigh when I remember that tonight is strictly sober for me too. Whatever, I’m cool with lemonade.

The party starts off slow with everyone conversing and waiting for Reiner’s burgers to be done, but once we’ve all eaten things start going a little crazy. Sasha shows up at three and is ready to inhale the leftovers while Ymir’s abandoned her spot as bartender, managed to get wasted, and pulled Christa off to Reiner’s old treehouse to “talk”. Eren’s more riled up than he should be and is currently throwing the basketball at the garage, not even trying to make a basket anymore. Mikasa showed up a little while after Sasha and is mingling with Hannah, but I haven’t seen her eyes land on Eren once.

I take it easy and situate myself on the back patio with my cup of lemonade and watch the party go as it pleases. Marco appears at the bottom of the stairs and gestures towards the bounce house with an excited look on his face.

                “Jean we’re going in want to come?”

I shake my head and snort. “Nah, dude I’m cool. I’ll just watch from here.”

Marco wrinkles his nose at me, but follows Mina and Thomas into the bounce house. They all kick off their shoes before they pile in and I soon hear their delighted peals of laughter.

I don’t know how long I watch them for, but I see Reiner duck in for a while with Bert on his heels, and I don’t even notice that someone’s sat beside me until they nudge me on the shoulder.

                “What’s with the long face?”

I turn to see Mikasa and nearly spit out my drink. Mikasa. Talking to me?

                “I uh—nothing, I can’t um, h-help it?” Shit.

She smiles at my response and nurses a beer can in her hands.

                “This is a nice spot to sit, mind if I join you?”

                “No! Course not.” I mumble back and try not to spontaneously combust into flames. She keeps her eyes on the bounce house with a somewhat strained expression on her face. I notice that Eren and Armin glance at her every once and a while and then at me, as if they were talking about us.

                “I just don’t want to start a fight or anything with Mina.” I end up randomly blurting out to her. I don’t know why I said it, but I did.

                “For Marco’s sake?”

I nod and set my cup between my feet with a sigh.

                “According to Mina, I don’t have the right to ‘hog Marco all to myself’ and that I’m ‘selfish’ for wanting to spend time with him at parties.”

Mikasa takes a sip of her beer and frowns. Her gray eyes stray to the concrete stairs and the ant that’s trying to make its way to the other side.

                “I see.” She murmurs with a bitter smile on her face. “I’ve heard that one before.”

I don’t comment, but I assume that she’s talking about Eren. I want to ask if they’re having a falling out, but a part of me feels like it isn’t any of my business, so I keep my mouth shut. We sit in comfortable silence for a while, and I think I zone out because when my gaze returns to the bounce house, it’s empty and Marco’s nowhere to be seen.

                “Shit.” I jump to my feet and I think I startle Mikasa because she jolts slightly at my movement. “Sorry Mikasa, I have to go make sure Marco isn’t—“

                “It’s okay Jean, I know.” She waves me away and finishes off her beer can. “By the way can I have the rest of this?” she points at my lemonade and I nod at her before I make my way up the stairs and into the kitchen where sure enough, a group of Marco’s friends are pouring shots down his throat.

I swear, I take my eyes off of him for a few minutes and this happens…

                “Oi!” I grab Marco’s arm just before he’s about to down another shot of God-knows-what. “What the hell are you doing?”

                “Birthday shots! Chill, Jean it’s only his fourth…” Thomas stops talking when he sees the expression I’m giving him. Mina rolls her eyes and adjusts one of her pigtails.

                “It’s tradition Jean, we’re keeping a close eye on him.”

I try my best to keep a neutral tone with them. “Well, it’s also _tradition_ to eat dinner with Marco’s family on his birthday so I would appreciate it if you didn’t get him _shitfaced_ before we have to go.” I snatch the glass out of Marco’s hand and pull him out the patio doors without sparing a glance at his friends.

                “Jean relax, I’m fine.” Marco stops at the stairs and pats me on the arms before a giggle slips out. “See? Perfectly sober.”

                “Uh-huh.” I narrow my eyes at him, unconvinced. “You’ve drunk more than four shots, haven’t you?”

Marco shakes his head, but his smile is threatening to give himself away and I groan at the sky.

                I force him to sit with me on the stairs just as I hear Reiner’s voice boom through the yard.

                “You fucking idiots, get the fuck off my roof!” I see Reiner storm out of the bounce house—his face flushed and the back of his shirt sweaty—and he stands a few feet away from us, his eyes trained above the patio.

I hear Sasha’s cackle followed by Connie’s unmistakable drunk and slurring voice.

                “You know, I think I can see all of Trost from up here!”

Reiner balls his hands into fists and shouts for Bert to help him. A few seconds later, Bert dashes past us up the stairs and into the house with a panicked look on his face.

                “I swear to fucking God you two if you fall off of my fucking roof—“

When Reiner gets drunk, he relies on the word fuck more than any other vocabulary in his brain; it increases every time he speaks so it’s pretty amusing.

                “We don’t fall, we fly!” Sasha shouts back.

                “Like fucking hell! I’m not paying you shit if you sue me!”

                “Don’t be so mad Reiner, we’re just sunbathin—ack!” Connie’s voice abruptly cuts off and Sasha’s laugh is brought to a quick end when I hear Bert say something and undoubtedly pulls them back in through the window.

Reiner lets out a deep breath and storms up the stairs and into the house; I kind of fear for Connie and Sasha’s safety now, they would’ve been better off jumping.

Marco finds this hilarious, and he’s still laughing at my side over the whole situation.

                “They’re so stupid!” he manages to get out between wheezes. I watch him in mute amusement until he calms down and lets out a long breath.

Sasha slips out the patio doors and moves to sit on the bottom stairs, probably using us a potential shield from Reiner’s rage. Her cheeks are bright red and her hair’s fallen out of her ponytail.

                “Did you just run a marathon?” I comment on her heavy breathing; the violent rise and fall of her chest as she sits hunched on the stairs, and I hear a raspy laugh escape her lungs.

                “Basically.” She pats Marco’s leg and coughs.  “Marco you’re so drunk, it’s cute.”

                “Thanks?”

                “I think it’s interesting that Armin and Eren have disappeared.” Sasha checks over her shoulder to make sure no one’s eavesdropping on our conversation, or coming after her. “Just like how Ymir and Christa disappeared.”

                “So?” They probably went inside to eat or something.

Marco giggle-snorts at her observation, launching him into another laughing fit.

I narrow my eyes at the two in confusion.

                “You really don’t get it Jean?” Sasha blows out a breath and pushes back her sweaty bangs. “I mean, Reiner and Bert are upstairs doing god-knows-what—“

                “—They’re probably punishing Connie, who you bailed on.”

                “More like pulling him into a nasty orgy session. Why do you think I ran?” Sasha grins at me. “There’s something in the water boys.”

Marco’s coming down from his bout of laughter and wipes the tears from his eyes before he blinks at me.

                “Jean you’re…really stupid.” Great—his filter’s off. Words Marco, they hurt.

                “Gee thanks.”

                “Marco who’s stupider, Eren or Jean?” Sasha tugs one of her elastic hairbands off her wrist and starts tying up her hair again. “I know it’s a tough decision.”

Marco frowns at her, his hands idly pick at his shorts. “Is stupider a word?”

                “Who’s stupid now?” I shoot at him.

                “What? Jean shut up you thought…that platypuses were mythical creatures.” I see the corners of Marco’s mouth quirk up, prompting a twinge of my annoyance.

                “Shut up! That was in fifth grade, you said you’d drop it!” I take a deep breath before I add “I’m surprised you’re able to use those big words.”

Marco rolls his eyes and falls back against the railing.

                “Chill you old women.” Sasha grunts as she adjusts her ponytail. Her eyes wander towards the patio doors and they visibly widen in panic. “Shit! I gotta go. Bye guys!”

Sasha hops up and takes off across the yard just as Reiner comes barreling down the stairs after her, closing the distance in half the time. Don’t mess with a Trost Titan quarterback.

Somehow Sasha manages to hop the neighbor’s fence seconds before Reiner can reach her, and she salutes him before she runs across the yard towards the street.

                “Damn you Sasha!” Reiner shouts at her, his hands gripping the fence as if he was prepared to tear it out of the ground. Angry Reiner is the cue for us to leave.

I check the time on my phone and bite back my own string of fucks. It’s almost five and I have to sober this guy up, fuck me.

                “Come on Marco, we’re going home.” I stand up and brush off the back of my jeans. He doesn’t budge from his spot and widens his eyes.

                “What, we just got here!”

                “Yeah like five hours ago. Let’s go, we have dinner remember?”

Marco cocks his head a little to the side and I can see the faint flush of red in his cheeks.

                “Only if you hold my hand.”

I roll my eyes so far into my head I almost fear that they’ll get stuck there.

                “What are we, in first grade?” I stare at his outstretched hand and raise an eyebrow. Marco grins like the cheeky bastard he is and doesn’t move until I take his hand in mine and haul him to his feet.

                “Bye guys! Thanks for the party!” he shouts and waves to the stragglers in the yard. They call back their birthday wishes and wave goodbye as we trudge down the side of the house and towards my car parked in the front.

I can feel the warmth radiating out of Marco’s hand as we walk, and he runs his thumb over my knuckles as he hums under his breath. The weather has lost its humidity and is being replaced with the cool evening breeze that blows in from the city, and I’m starting to get sleepy.

                “Hop in.” I release his hand and climb into the driver’s seat with a huff. When I look over, I see Marco has his hand resting palms up on the armrest and an expectant look in his eyes.

                “You want me to hold hands with you while I drive?” I let the disbelief leak into my voice as I stare at him.

                “I get a birthday request for you every year.” He says quietly.

I start the car, put it out of park, and clasp our hands together without another word. It’s a short drive anyway and I’m perfectly skilled enough to turn with one hand, so the ride back to my place goes smoothly.

I park in my driveway and make my way to the back door with Marco still clinging to my hand.

                “You’re going to take a shower, drink hella water, and sober up within the next hour, do you understand?”

                “Yeah.”

                “You know, I was put in charge of babysitting you but I believed that you would be responsible enough to behave on your own.” I flick on the kitchen lights and push him down the hallway towards the stairs.

Marco tightens his grip on my hand and lowers his head.

                “I know, I’m sorry.”

                “Damn well should be.” I mutter as we climb the stairs. “Our moms will kill us if we come to dinner with you smelling like a bar. I’m just going to say you spilled maple syrup all over yourself at breakfast.”

Marco sighs when we reach the top of the stairs and slides his hand out of mine to disappear into the bathroom. I stomp into my room, kick off my shoes, and change into one of my nicer shirts for dinner. As I fall back on my bed, I wonder what they cooked; they’re both amazing cooks, so no doubt dinner will be pretty amazing. I’m just hoping that Marco can convince our moms that he isn’t as wasted as I think he is.

I knew it was risky, bringing him to a party just hours before a family dinner, but it was a surprise party meant for him and I couldn’t let that go to waste. It’s just my fault for taking my eyes off of him and being too engaged in a conversation with a girl who will never like me. Whatever, I’m over it.

My eyes fall onto the wrapped package sitting on my desk, meant for Marco. I’d completely forgotten to bring it over to his house this morning. I try to make a mental reminder to bring it when Marco comes into my room with only a towel wrapped around his waist. Flashback to the pool, oh God—

                “Two showers in one day.” He mutters and throws his clothes in my dirty laundry pile. “Making me waste so much water…” I watch the water droplets roll down his neck and spine, glistening against his tan skin and broad shoulders. I think I forget to breathe, because when I do it’s ragged and dry, causing me to cough into my fist.  I can feel my face starting to burn as I watch the muscles in his back flex while he digs through my dresser looking for his stash of clothes. Dammit Marco you can’t just walk around practically naked!

                “Jean, where’s my underwear?” he looks at me over his shoulder and I try to steel my expression into something neutral.

                “It’s uh—in one of the d-drawers, b-beneath the uh—” my mind blanks on words and I shake my head to clear the ringing in my ears. “Just take anything man, it d-doesn’t matter.” _Just put on clothes. Please._

Marco shrugs and picks the first pair of boxers he finds. He grabs a T-shirt and pulls it over his head, but it’s a little small on him and barely covers his torso. I’m scared that he’s going to drop his towel before he puts on his underwear, and I know I won’t be able to survive that sight, but he at least has the decency to pull them on underneath the towel before letting it drop to the floor.

I realize that I’m lying back on my bed, watching him get dressed and start to feel extremely creepy, so I reach for the remote to my TV and click in on, desperate for something to drag my attention from Marco’s exposed skin.

Unfortunately, Marco decides that he doesn’t want to wear pants and sits on me wearing just his boxers and a T-shirt.

                “Are you trying to kill me?” I wheeze from under him and smack at his back for him to get off. “You’re too heavy to sit on my stomach like that!”

Marco chuckles and rolls off of me, taking a spot beside me on the bed and pretends to be engaged in whatever I’m watching. He smells like my soap and shampoo, and he still manages to pull off the scent better. I can see how my shirt stretches over his body, which is too big for that shirt in the first place, and the back rides up a little, exposing his skin.

I click through different channels until we find something remotely interesting—we end up settling on cartoons—when I notice that Marco’s dozed off. He snoozes between his folded arms as he lies on his stomach and I listen to his breathing as I watch TV. I feel a little bad that I have to wake him up in the next fifteen minutes, but hey—whatever rest he can get before dinner the better. So I let him sleep.

 

I don’t know how I manage it, but I get me and Marco through the front door at six P.M sharp. We stumble through the front door, kick off our shoes, and shuffle into the dining room somewhat out of breath and really hungry. Getting Marco dressed and presentable in five minutes was a lot more difficult than I could ever imagine and I hope I’ll never have to do it again.

Our mothers are conversing in the kitchen and have already set the table and dimmed the lights in the room, making me feel three times more tired than I already am. I’m seconds away from passing out on the hardwood floor, to be honest.

Marco is somehow as chipper as can be, prompted with the idea of filling his stomach again with more food (how does he do it?!).

Sheila pokes her head into the dining room and smiles at us.

                “Take a seat, boys.”

We follow her instructions and sit next to each other at the dining table, shuffling in our seats until we get comfortable, when my mom comes out with a pitcher of water and a bottle of wine. Sheila follows after her with a platter of some kind of meat (I’m assuming it’s a roast?) and sets it in the center of the table with a satisfied grin.

                “We’ll let you indulge tonight.” My mother hums as she pours a glass of wine and holds it out for Marco. I grab his arm when he reaches for it and give my mom a tight smile.

                “He’ll have water. Same with me.”

                “Good answer.” Sheila laughs as she takes a seat at the table. My mom disappears back into the kitchen with the last platter and sets it next to the main dish; both looking equally appetizing.

                “So Marco, how has your seventeenth birthday been so far?” Sheila folds her hands on the table and gives Marco an expectant look.

I pray that his fifteen minute long nap has sobered him up. Even if just a little.

                “I’ve had a lot of fun.” Marco flashes his perfect smile and nudges me. “Thanks to Jean, as usual.”

I blow out a breath I wasn’t aware I was holding and smile at our moms. Yes Marco, just like that.

                “Thanks to Jean.” My mother coos and Sheila giggles.

We all eat in comfortable conversation. Our mother’s ask us the usual questions like what we did, and we told the necessary facts about the party and leave out the drunken antics of our friends. I compensate for Marco’s lack of attention to the conversation and nudge him under the table when necessary, but our moms never notice.

I feel like I’m going to explode, and then Sheila brings out the cake. My mother flicks off the lights, submerging the dining room in darkness, before a warm light drifts into the room and illuminates a large chocolate cake with neat cursive writing on the top.

Marco chews on his lip while we serenade him his happy birthday and wait for him to make a wish. The orange and crimson glow from the candles flicker across his face and I see him glance at me before he takes a deep breath and blows out the candles in an impressive gust. We applaud into the dark until my mom fumbles for the light switch again and Sheila moves around the table with her digital camera, snapping pictures of us as we attempt to cut the cake.

                “Another successful birthday.” She says triumphantly and puts her camera away with a smile.

Oh Sheila.

                “We have news!” My mom claps her hands to grab our attention. I slowly drag my attention from my cake to my mom’s beaming face; her blue eyes are bright and shining.

                “Oh! Yes we do!” Sheila makes a face at Marco when he holds out his plate for another slice of cake.

                “We won tickets for a free retreat to one of our favorite spas.” My mom clasps her hands together and I try to fight the urge to roll my eyes. Those damn sweepstakes, I swear. “So we’re going to the mall tomorrow to do some shopping.”

                “Thas’ cool.” I tell her around my mouthful of chocolate heaven. “Me and Marco can jus’ stay here…”

                “No, you two are coming to help carry bags.” Sheila pulls the cake away from her son and wrinkles her nose. I see her mouth at him _“Stop eating so much.”_

                Marco makes a disgruntled noise beside me. I feel that; the worst place to be taken by our moms is the mall. It’s miserable, you walk forever, their bags are heavy as hell, and we can’t even go into half of the stores they wander into without wanting to launch ourselves out of a window.

                “Last time we went a saleswoman tried to sell Marco a diamond necklace for his nonexistent girlfriend.” I set my fork down and reach for my napkin. “And the poor guy almost did it! Are you really going to put him through that again?”

                “Marco needs to learn how to say no.” Sheila says and looks sternly at Marco. Her gaze moves between him and the cake, another smile etched on her face.

                “It was a good deal…” Marco mumbles.

                “No getting out of it!” My mom takes my plate, despite the few crumbs on my plate that I planned on eating, and starts to clean off the table. “We’re spending the night at Sheila’s so we’ll have an early start tomorrow.”

                “Sleepover!” Sheila jumps up and down happily before taking her son’s plate. We watch them disappear into the kitchen and their voices fill the silence.

I push out of my seat and tap Marco on the back of his neck.

                “Let’s go before they try to make us wash dishes.” I admit, it’d be pretty petty for them to ask Marco to wash dishes on his birthday, but I’m still in danger of being asked.

Marco nods nonetheless and follows me up the stairs to his room.

Well the rough part’s over. Marco didn’t give away the fact that he’s still buzzed and I didn’t have to tell any lies. That’s always nice. It feels like all the weight’s off my chest and I can finally, _finally_ relax.

                “Good act my friend.” I tell him as I drop onto his bed. I look up when he doesn’t respond; Marco shifts from foot to foot in the center of the room and eyes me with an unreadable expression.

                “Marco?”

I barely have time to defend myself when he launches himself at me, causing the bed to slam into the wall and a startled shriek escapes my lips. He pins me on my stomach and sits on my back; his challenge for a wrestling match is clear as day.

When Marco and I were nine, we started watching those stupid wrestling shows, knowing that they were fake fights, and thought ‘Hey, why don’t we do that?’ This is the reason for my many bruises and cuts; two tumbling children rolling around the room are bound to run into something sooner or later. I can’t tell how many times Marco and I have collided heads, stepped on fingers, sprained ankles, or given each other bloody noses, but it would certainly surprise anyone else. Don’t let Marco’s welcoming and sunny personality fool you; he’s more violent than I am.

                “No fair, you got a head start!” I squirm underneath him and try to wiggle my way onto the floor. Marco loosens his grip enough for me to flip him over and climb on his back. His bed isn’t big enough for roughhousing, so we fall to the floor and tumble around the room, filling the air with laughter and occasional yelps.

Marco pins me to the floor and I stare up at him, wondering if I should surrender. We’re both breathing heavily and I can feel the sweat soaking through my shirt. Marco smiles down at me and adjusts the pressure he’s pushing on my wrists, waiting for me to make my next move. I can do the dirty crotch kick, or knee him in the side but neither feels like a winning move.

                “Looks like you’ve won this round.” I mutter. I try to move my hands underneath his, but he doesn’t let go. I wait until he leans off of me before I spring back, adjust my weight, and knock him onto his back. I know I pushed a little too hard and like I said, we’ve done this so many times I know how to be careful, so I use my hands to cushion the back of his head as we hit the floor.

I always miscalculate Marco’s weight in this though.

I bite the inside of my mouth to prevent myself from screaming out a loud string of swears and cradle my smashed hand. It takes a Marco to notice my pain, but when he does, he rolls onto his side before sitting up and taking my hand into his own.

                “That’s what you get for playing dirty.” He probes my hand lightly, causing me to let out a low hiss. His fingers ghost over the lines on my palm, checking for any visible signs of damage before he begins to apply pressure against my joints with little circular motions. I have to admit that it feels pretty good aside from the throbbing pain in the center.

                “I was trying to protect your hard head!”

Marco smiles at my hand before he lets it drop into my lap.

                “I think I won that round then.” I watch him stand and go across the room to rummage through his drawers. I massage my hand while he changes into his pajamas; the feeling is coming back into it like pins and needles.

By the time I’m changed into my pajamas, Marco’s already in bed and snuggled underneath the blankets.

                “Make room hippo.” I use my foot to push him against the wall and he takes the covers with him. I drop onto the pillows with a huff and stare at the ceiling; how long has it been for Marco’s bed to start feeling as comfortable as my own?

I snatch my share of the blankets and Marco doesn’t put up much of a fight for them. I turn onto my side and curl into a ball, vaguely aware of my back pressed against Marco’s beneath the sheets, and I wait to be pushed down into unconsciousness.

 

 

I wake up in the morning surrounded by heat and blankets. I’m so comfortable that I don’t want to move, and I hope that if I close my eyes I’ll fall back to sleep. I let out a deep sigh and bury my face into something warm and it smells so familiar; that faint, but crisp smell of citrus that I could distinguish from a mile away…the smell I associate with Marco. I feel the rise and fall of his body against me and sink into the feeling for a few seconds before I snap awake and stiffen.

Marco…

I pull my head back and realize that I’ve been burying my head in his chest, and we’ve managed to tangle our bodies to the point where I can’t tell where my body begins and his ends. One of his arms is underneath my head while the other is wrapped around my waist, hugging me against his body with his face only inches away from mine.

Shit.

I can’t move and I’m suddenly aware of how fucking close we are. Not only that, but with the blankets around us it’s h-hot and his breath is tickling my ear and he looks so peaceful when he’s sleeping, and not only that b-but—

Of all the times to have morning wood, today takes the cake.

It doesn’t help that we’re actually touching—everywhere, if I may add. It’s worse than pacing the bathroom at the pool because at least I wasn’t face to face or fucking pretzeled  against my best friend in the heat of the moment or aware of the fact that we’re both…kind of in the same situation.

Marco lets out a brief groan before he buries his face in my neck. I try not to scream as he tightens his hold against me and shifts until one of his legs slide between mine. My heartbeat moves dangerously faster than it should.

Fucking fuck.

I need to get out before things get worse. At least that’s what I say, but the second I move, Marco wrinkles his nose in his sleep.

                “Jean?” I freeze, thinking that I woke him up, but he doesn’t stir again; his breath on my neck is going to drive me crazy, _Jesus help me_.

I’m not prepared for the sound of high heels clicking on the hardwood floor, nor am I prepared when my mother leans over me to run a hand through my hair. I try to squeak out a help, but she just brings a finger to her lips to silence me.

                “Wake up Marco soon, we’re getting ready to head out okay?” she whispers to me with a smile. “You two are so cute.”

                “Ugh—” I try to free myself from Marco’s arms and fail. “Okay.”

This is just embarrassing. Once mom leaves, I use my hands to stretch out Marco’s face, trying to annoy him awake.

It works, too well. I end up getting a knee straight into my strangely aroused groin, forcing a strangled cry loud enough to wake up the neighbors. Marco jolts awake, bolt upright, and whips his head to look around the room in panicked confusion.

                “What?!”

I roll onto my knees and curl into a ball with my forehead resting on the sheets and my arms wrapped around my stomach. _Deep breaths, deep breaths Jean_.

As I wait for the pain to pass, Marco puts his hands on my back and lightly shakes me.

                “Jean? What’s wrong?!”

_You kneed me in the fucking dick. That’s what’s wrong._

Of course I can’t say anything; instead I grit my teeth and shake my head into the comforter. When I do finally speak, my voice comes out an octave higher than I’d like.

                “Just…take a shower, we’re getting ready to go.”

                “Are you okay?”

                “Just…” I blow out a breath and slowly sit up. “Just peachy.”

Marco knits his eyebrows in concern, now fully awake, but follows my order and gets out of bed.

That certainly solved the morning wood problem on my side.

After I gather myself and look around the bright room, I realize that I really have to pee now. It’s like once you sit up, gravity brings everything down to your bladder and you’re seconds away from pissing yourself, you know? So I pad up to the bathroom door and throw it open.

                “Jean?” Marco squeaks, but I ignore him as I approach the toilet.

Marco’s bathroom has a pretty modern shower—floor to ceiling clear glass that gives the person in the shower no justice whatsoever, leaving them exposed to whoever comes in. I tell Marco to lock the door if he doesn’t want me coming in, but even so, I have to fucking piss.

                “I’m just using the toilet.” I see Marco’s silhouette in my peripheral vision as I lift the lid and empty my bladder. I’m aware of him watching me, so in annoyance, I turn my head to shamelessly stare him down.

He has the shampoo bottle strategically placed between his legs, so there’s not much left to the imagination. He has a lot more freckles than I remember, and I cock my head as I run my eyes down his thighs.

                “Jean, cut it out!” Marco’s voice is higher than usual and he’s turning into a human tomato. I smirk as I flush the toilet and drop the seat again.

                “Tell me Marco, do you still have the freckles on your butt from when you were a baby, or‒?” I dodge to the side as a bar of soap flies dangerously close to my head.

                “ _Get out_!”

I tilt my head back and laugh as I step out, pulling the door shut behind me. He didn’t even let me wash my hands, the inconsiderate jerk.

I walk down the hall and use the other bathroom to wash my hands and examine my face in the mirror. Brushing my hair is probably unnecessary, so all I have to do is brush my teeth and then I’m set to go.

 

I’m already changed when Marco comes out of the bathroom wearing a T-shirt, shorts, and a very angry expression on his face.

                “Jean Avery Kirchstein.” Marco seethes as he steps into my personal space. I don’t move as he glares at me, the red still tinting his cheeks. “What the hell was that?”

                “I just had to pee! That’s it!”

                “There’s another bathroom!”

                “I didn’t want to walk that far.” I shrug and look away from him, directing my attention to the floor. What an interesting speck of dust, oh and a lonely sock…

                “Uh-huh.” He huffs and I can smell the peppermint toothpaste on his breath. He steps back and walks over to his bed, muttering about something I probably don’t want to hear.

I wonder how fed up he’s with me. He must be mad if he used my middle name and hell in the same sentence. Let me make something clear; Marco doesn’t like to swear. And if he does, it’s either a reflex (like he burns himself), under his breath so no one can hear except for me (which is usually the case), or when he’s really angry. And I’ve only seen him really angry once. His level of anger contributes to his choice of cuss words, so I kind of picture it as a swear meter; right now I’m bordering on seriously annoying and pushing into the damns and little shits.

I decide not to push my luck and walk into the bathroom to brush my teeth. I do it slowly, trying to bide my time before I have to go back out and face that grouch. In a way, making him uncomfortable is payback for him kicking me where it matters. My discomfort is his discomfort, but we all know that he got off easy.

                “Hurry up you two!” I hear Sheila shout up the stairs.

I spit out my mouthful of foam and return my toothbrush back to its proper place. Marco passes the bathroom door and leads the way down the hall without another word to me. I follow silently behind him, trying to conceal the smile that’s beginning to spread across my face as I replay his panicked expression in the shower. Just like a cornered animal, god that’s _classic_.

I burst out into laughter once I reach the kitchen and Marco gives me the dirtiest fucking look I could ever imagine; it shuts me up automatically.

                “You sure like to make a lot of noise in the morning, don’t you?” My mom mutters as she scrolls through something on Sheila’s iPad. Her eyes flick from the screen to me, an eyebrow raised in silent questioning.

                “I’m just a loud person.” I say quietly and I hear Marco snort. Maybe I’ll knee him in the groin and see how he likes it. Maybe I could see how high of an octave Marco Nicholas Bodt can sing.

Sheila grabs the car keys from the kitchen counter and swings them around her finger.

                “Ready to go?”

We follow her out the back door and towards her red Prius parked in the driveway.

                “You boys better behave back there.” My mom warns as she slides into the passenger seat, gesturing at Marco and me with narrowed eyes that are quickly covered with sunglasses.

I decide to be nice and pull out my phone to scroll through my Facebook newsfeed as we make our way to the mall, but less than ten minutes into the car ride, Marco lightly smacks my phone out of my hand and it falls near our feet.

I stare at him in open-mouthed shock; he doesn’t even look at me, he’s facing the other way and staring out the window as if he were innocent.

                “How dare you.” I hiss at him and reach for my phone again; he uses his foot to block it. I decide to seek help. “ _Mom_ , Marco’s bullying me.”

                “What did I say?” My mom quips, but Marco doesn’t budge.

                “I’m not doing anything.” He says plainly and continues to stare out the window.

Dick.

 

By the time we reach the mall, I’ve made no progress in getting my phone back and I’m just about ready to push Marco out the car door. I’m forced to watch the struggle for the perfect parking spot for almost ten minutes when I could have been playing Candy Crush or something. Anything.

Marco doesn’t say another word to me and scrolls through his phone, a permanent smile resting on his face that’s either fueled by my irritation or something on his screen.

 It isn’t until we finally park and our moms hop out of the car that he turns to look at me. He measures my annoyed expression with a smirk and locks his phone. He’s really getting a kick out of this.

                “Can I have my phone now?” I ask as I reach for my phone for the thousandth time.

He unfastens his seatbelt and smiles at me.

                “I don’t know, can you?”

I swear to God, Marco makes me so mad sometimes.

 

 

 

I wonder why women love the mall so much. In particular mothers, it’s like their favorite place to gather and hang out with their friends. As if darting in and out of stores looking at expensive clothes was as fun as just hanging out at home or the park. I don’t get it. Malls make me nervous. There are too many people (children in particular), too many stores, and too many people trying to sell you things. The stores my mom usually brings me to have a heavy fragrance lingering in the air and by the time we leave the smell has clung to my clothes and hair like I’m some fucking human sample of the perfume they sell. Not only that, but they stuff as many cards as they can into my hand if I make the mistake of wandering while my mom’s in the dressing rooms.

I’m just lucky that Marco’s with me this time; I’m not sure if he’s still angry with me, but we’ve been following our moms around for almost an hour and he hasn’t tried to push me over the banister yet, so I guess that’s a good sign.

He’s walking a few feet ahead of me with my mother as she rambles to him with the occasional pat on his shoulder. If I didn’t know better, I’d think my mom was a cougar and chasing after from Marco the way that they laugh together. I see him adjust the bag in his hand as it gets uncomfortably heavy and digs into his palm. I know that feeling; I’m currently experiencing it too.

I don’t know what Sheila bought, but this bag is fucking heavy.

I try to distract myself from the pain by listening to the story she’s trying to tell me. I zone out every now and then but cling to the details about some woman named Talia who is essentially, a bitch, but Sheila of course puts it in nicer terms.

                “She’s a home wrecker Jean.” Sheila blows out a breath and stares ahead at her son’s back. “Watch out, she targets high school boys too.”

                “Geez.” I mutter and figure she’s somehow worried that her son’s going to be kidnapped by a crazy housewife. I think it’s a little late for that.

                “Sheila, they’re having a sale!” My mom stops abruptly and I almost collide into her. She points at one of the shoe places a few feet away and grabs Sheila’s hand to drag her off with her.

                “We’ll be a while boys, you can go to the food court or something!” Sheila uses her free hand to wriggle a twenty out of her purse and press it into my palm. “Go crazy.”

                “Thanks!” I call after her and watch them disappear in the store nearly jumping in excitement. Marco moves to stand by my side and drops his bag on the ground with a heavy sigh.

                “How much longer are we going to have to be here?” he groans and massages his hand with a sad expression. I snort and stuff the money in my back pocket before I readjust the bag in my hand. We’ve only made it halfway through the mall on the second level. We still have the rest of the second floor and the first floor to go before our moms will even consider leaving.

                “We’ve got quite a while.” My eyes run over the different stores in search of somewhere interesting. Now that I think about it, I don’t think I’ve ever been to this mall before. Mom usually brings me to the one closer to our house, but Sheila drove pretty far out for us to come here. Only a few stores look familiar to me, but then again it’s not like I’m really looking for anything anyway. I know it’s not like Costco where they hand out samples throughout the store, but maybe we can find something to entertain ourselves with.

                “Oh my God.” Marco’s intake of breath startles me and by the time I turn around, he’s jogging towards a corridor that leads to the bathrooms. I watch him leave in confusion; did he suddenly have to go to the bathroom? He could’ve said something.

I’m about to move to the benches located near the center of the lounge area when Marco comes jogging back pushing a…baby stroller?

                “Marco!” I hiss at him as he nears me with it. “What the hell are you doing? That probably belongs to someone!”

Marco turns it to show me a small cart attached to the back.

                “No, it’s for customers. There’s a bunch back there!” He picks up the bags and drops them in the basket with a satisfied look on his face before he turns to me. “You can check for yourself.”

I stare at him in disbelief before I look down at the little cart. It’s built to hold a shit ton of bags and carry two kids, which is basically us, but we’re too big for the seats.

                “How did you even know about these if they’re all the way over there?” I gesture towards the bathrooms and raise an eyebrow at him.

                “I saw a woman go and get one?” Marco starts to push the cart down the hallway and I follow him. “Most malls have them, so I figured I’d go see.”

I shake my head with a huff. I can’t really complain, I mean now we don’t have to carry any more bags, which is a blessing in every sense of the word.

It isn’t until we near the escalator that I find a store worth looking at.

                “Hey Marco look.” I stop and gesture at the store in front of us. The title “Kinky Town” is awful enough on its own, but the mannequins in the window are dressed in maid outfits and one of them is holding a whip. It seems to be a pretty popular store, I see people mingling around certain parts; I think it’s also a gag store, there are some T-shirts and other random things along one of the shelves. Considering the amount of teenagers in there, I hope it is. “How do feel about BDSM?”

Marco’s eyes widen as he takes in the store and I see him focus his attention on the mannequin with the whip.

                “Don’t tell me you want to go in.”

He knows me too well.

                “Come on.” I make my way through the doorway and take in my surroundings. The store has a dark theme to it; black walls, black ceiling, black floor, but the large windows and bright lights keep it nice and sketchy. Marco follows me in with a frown on his face as he looks around. We make our way through the aisles, Marco moving a little faster than me in an attempt to try and escape, when he suddenly stops.

                “That’s…a huge vibrator…” Marco says slowly, catching my attention. I abandon the bottle of bacon flavored lube and walk over to him.

                “Holy shit.” I whisper under my breath. The thing is…well, huge. It’s pink and sparkly, and honestly I don’t know who would use that.

                “I didn’t even know they were made that size…” I feel like Marco’s going to pass out from looking at this thing, so I push him down the last aisle with a shake of my head.

                “That’s what I imagine Reiner’s dick to look like.”

I don’t let Marco keel over from laughter, keeping two firm hands on his back as I push our way down the T-shirt aisle; I can feel him shake underneath my hands as he tries to stifle his laughter and then I hear a voice.

                “Is there anything I can help you with?” I peek around Marco’s shoulder to see a small girl smiling at us. I say small, but she’s definitely an adult, I think.

                “N-no! We’re—We uh…” I can hear Marco’s flustered voice and it makes me smile.

                “Yeah, actually...” I squeeze my way between Marco and the shelves to stand in front of him. “Can we get him fitted for a bra?”

                “Jean!” Marco hisses through his teeth and the girl giggles.

                “I think your size will surprise you. You might rival with my mom.” I smile back at him and give the girl a friendly smirk. “Nah, we’re just looking around, thanks though.”

She murmurs a “no problem” before escaping back to her post at the cash register with the other employees.

                “Can we go now?” Marco doesn’t wait for an answer. He pushes our cart out of the store and waits for me by the escalators with an annoyed look on his face.

                “I really wanted to see you in a bra.” I tell him once I step out of the store.

                “Uh-huh.” He hums and settles the cart on the escalators so it doesn’t go flying off. “I’m sure you did.”

                “The blue lacy one would have been perfect.”

Marco glares down at the bottom floor, but the corner of his mouth twitches.

                “I think I look better in red.”

                “True.” I cross my arms and watch the new stores enter my line of sight. “Maybe even green.”

Marco smiles over his shoulder at me and I can’t help but grin back. I take in his dimples, the light in the eyes that are no longer glaring at me, and think about how I can’t help but love him.

 

 

               

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been way too long since we updated, I can’t apologize enough. Anyway, this month I will be getting lots of work done as far as editing these stories, so hopefully this story will be updated more regularly. I hope all of you enjoyed this chapter, thank you for reading!  
> ^^^  
> whoops it's almost 2 AM and I'm still up revising. One down and so many more to go, but I thank everyone who's been reading! No we did not die or scrap the story, it's all good. Don't panic. Do I smell some thirsty thoughts about Marco circling through Jean's mind? I dunno, who can say...


	4. Let's Play House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean ponders the concept of family as he encounters several awkward situations.

Sunday ends up being a slow and lazy day.

I lose track of time immediately, waking up at eleven o’clock and stumbling into the bathroom only to (accidently) spend an hour in the shower, staring at the bubbles swirling around the drain in a semi-hypnotic state. It’s nearly twelve-thirty when I get downstairs, and by then I’m ready to go back to bed. The day is pretty dreary; clouds block out the sun and cover Trost in a sad gray blanket, eliminating any chance of seeing the sun today.

I flop onto the couch and stretch out with a sigh, reaching for the remote as I do so. I’m not searching for anything in particular; I just need a show to put noise in the room. I settle on some show about a guy who likes to eat really weird things from different countries. I raise an eyebrow as he shoves a fried millipede in his mouth—now I have nothing against eating bugs, but something that large or…leggy?

                “What on Earth are you watching?” I look over my shoulder to see Mom standing behind the couch, her eyes trained on the TV in concern. When she realizes what the man is eating she shields her eyes with a disgruntled groan. “Can’t you watch something normal?”

                “This is normal. The guy eats bugs and other weird stuff.” I wave the remote and shrug. “I guess they’re okay if you cook ‘em right.”

Mom shudders and frowns. I don’t notice that she’s left until I try to ask her something and get no response. I figure she must be packing; tomorrow she and Sheila are leaving for whatever trip they won on the sweepstakes; I don’t even know where they’re going exactly nor when they’re coming back—I never do.

I wonder what I’m going to do these next few days without Mom around. I could throw another party, hell I could do anything I want. Mom will be gone, Dad’s god knows where, and the house will be empty just like Marco’s.

I hear Mom’s voice come from around the corner, along with the click of her high heels. I nearly start when she sets her laptop on my lap, the screen opened up to the Skype page.

                “Call your father.” She mouths to me with the phone pressed against her ear. “Yeah we’ll be back in time for your baby shower Laura we wouldn’t miss it for the world…” Mom disappears back into the kitchen, deep in her conversation. I can hear the fake friendliness she puts in her voice when she speaks—only because I know that she hates Laura. Spending time with Sheila and Mom has given me access to enough dirt on every mother in the neighborhood to write a book. Or a terrible sitcom.

I stare at the computer for a little longer than necessary before I click on Dad’s name and hit call. I don’t have much to say to the guy, despite the fact that it feels like he’s rarely around anymore. All of our talks go in the same direction and it feels more like a chore talking to him than the usual check-up; it would all follow under the same lines of conversation. ‘How was school?’, ‘are you eating alright?’, ‘are you excited about your senior year?’, ‘we’re going to have to start talking about college’—God I’m not looking forward to that one. They aren’t exactly bonding questions, and I always get the feeling that he doesn’t really care what’s going on with me as long as I’m not hooked on drugs or selling myself on the streets. I don’t have any special news for him; I don’t have a new girlfriend, my grades were satisfactory, I didn’t get into any fights in school this year, so what was there to say to the man? I don’t dislike him, not at all, there’s just a major sense of disconnect—I don’t know what he wants me to say to him or how to make him proud of me. I figure as long as I keep doing what I’m doing I should be fine.

 I wonder why Mom didn’t bother calling him first; she probably has more to say to him than I do. I’m not sure how she feels about the whole “absentee father” thing, but I know she’s a little snippy when she talks to him on the phone nowadays. But our household is a cycle: Dad leaves on business, Mom gets angry, Dad returns from business, Mom gets happy, and then there’s a brief stagnant period before it repeats again, and has been repeating for the past twelve or so years. I can say that I’m used to it, but in reality I try to spend as much time away from the house and my parents as I can to avoid the aftermath of their conflicts. I can see the way they try to hide it from me, whispering conversations in the hall or in the kitchen late at night, or going out for dinner simply so they can organize whatever kind of marriage they have left.

I watch the screen flicker on and my dad comes into view. It takes a while for his image to sharpen enough so I can see his features and the background, but when the screen finally adjusts I’m able to see him clearly. I’m not shocked to see him wearing a sombrero on his head.

                “Jean! How’re ya?” he shouts to me, but it breaks with static. I frown and put him on full-screen mode with a sigh. _Down to the basics._

                “I’m alright I guess.” I quirk an eyebrow at his get-up and pretend to be interested. “How’s Mexico?”

                “My God there’s so much to do here!” he’s handed a shot of something and smiles to someone off-screen, “I—thank you—have been up to my neck in work lately, but now I can finally relax.”

_Relax._ I snort at his response. “Yeah, like you haven’t been spending every day in a bar instead of actually working.”

                “Hey! I’m trying to enjoy myself down here!” he takes his shot in front of me and scrunches up his face before his eyes land on something I can’t see again. “Oi Pedro! Come say hi to my son!”

A few seconds later I’m staring into the face of a stranger. His bushy mustache occupies most of his lower face, but I get a glimpse of a friendly smile and warm brown eyes.

                “Nice to meet you!” the man says to me with a thick accent, but dips out of view before I can respond. What the hell is my dad doing? Work just seems like an excuse to use so he can travel to obscure places and drink all day with the locals.

                “How’s mom?”

                “She’s good. She’s going somewhere with Sheila again.” I try not to roll my eyes. _Ask her your damn self._

                “Sheila…” Dad’s voice drops and he reaches for a beer. When he speaks again, his words are blunt, but joking. “Jean, I think those two are lesbians.”

I cough into my fist when my breath catches and widen my eyes. “What?”

                “Just think about it.”

                “I don’t want to!”

                “You and Marco can be step-brothers, isn’t that a good thing? I mean I’m not happy that she’s cheating on me, but—”

                “S-shut up! No, that’s not a good thing!” I raise my voice and nearly dump the laptop onto the floor to avoid the conversation. My voice attracts Mom’s attention and she makes her way towards me and settles at my side on the couch to ask the question we’ve all been wondering.

                “Are you ever coming home?” she asks him, completely unaware of our previous conversation about her. Dad smiles at her sheepishly and runs a hand through his thinning dark hair.

                “Ah, you know…maybe next week or the one after?”

                “Uh-huh.” Mom huffs back. She meets my dad’s apologetic gaze before turning away, pushing herself out of her seat and storming back into the kitchen. I watch her go, wondering what she’s thinking about right now; no doubt she’s pissed, Dad’s been in Mexico for almost a month saying it was simply on business, but we all know he’s dragging it out for another reason. Whatever the reason is, it doesn’t really matter, and I could care less when he decided to come home.

                “I’m going to try to come home as soon as I can.” Dad says finally. “I’d like to spend some time with you…and Marco too.”

My hand itches to disconnect the call and save me from the discomfort. “Yeah, me too.”

                “See you later Jean.”

                “See you later Dick.”

                “Richard.” He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. He opens one brown eye at me and smirks, taking off the sombrero and setting it on the table beside him. “It’s Dad.”

                “Bye Dad.” I give him a half-hearted wave before I hit disconnect and Dad disappears off the screen. With a huff, I close my mom’s laptop and trace the apple icon on the cover until I hear her return.

                “Is he gone?”

                “Yup.”

Mom gently takes her computer back and cradles it in her arms like a newborn child. I try to gauge her expression, but she wears her usual blank mask and stares down at me with ice blue eyes. She seems to be searching for my reaction as well; her eyes roam across my face until they focus on my hair, and then she sighs.

                “Wanna order a pizza?” She doesn’t say what I expect her to, and my hand has already started to roam through my tangled hair out of nervous habit. I pause at her offer and decide to smile so she can stop worrying—I can tell since her forehead creases weirdly when she’s thinking too hard. She’s thinking that Dad upset me, which isn’t true, but I can tell that his presence set her off a little. It’s because he’s gone all the time, they never seem able to pick up where they left off, and before they can stabilize their relationship he’s up and gone again. I think it makes her lonely, so I can only be grateful that she has Sheila to keep her company and vice versa.

                “Pizza sounds good.” I grin back. She matches my smile and turns on her heel to make her way back down the hall. I watch her go, her blonde hair sweeping across her back, as she turns into the kitchen yet again.

 

 

 

                “Three days is not a long time.” Mom says over her slice of pizza. She tries to mimic the scowl on my face, but only achieves a bloated look that reminds me of a hamster. “We’re getting our hair and nails done, deep massages, a resort with room service…”

                “Sounds lovely.” I’m sure she can detect the sarcasm in my tone, despite my mouthful of pizza.

                “Boys just don’t understand.” Mom sighs as she clicks through different channels on TV. “If we got two more tickets I would’ve brought you two along.”

                “I’m sure Marco would love to go.” I pick at a pepperoni and offer my mom a crass smile. “Me on the other hand…”

                “They could finally get your hair untangled.”

                “Not necessary.”

                “It’s a problem Jean, please comb your hair!” Mom sets the remote down with a heavy clunk and reaches for her wine glass. I’ve already lost track of how many she’s drunk tonight, but the bottle is pretty close to empty. Again.

I roll my eyes and finish off the last of my pizza without another word.

                “You and Marco are to stay together these next couple of days, understand? We don’t want you doing anything dangerous.” Mom wipes at her hands with a napkin as daintily as possible, but her coordination isn’t as good as it normally is.           

                “What makes you think Marco won’t do anything dangerous?”

Mom’s expression says it all. Her eyebrows raise enough to show me how stupid my question seemed to her. But she doesn’t know the things that run through that boy’s mind. He can be worse than me in many ways.

                “Stay together. And no parties.” Mom flops back onto the couch and rests her feet on the coffee table, shifting to get comfortable before the movie introduction ended.

                “Yeah well same goes for you and Sheila.”

Mom’s mouth quirks up in a way I know too well.

                “No promises.”

 

 

 

 

On Monday I decide to pay Marco a visit at work. It’s a decent sized bookstore just inside the more industrial part of Trost—not yet the city, but very close to the looming gray towers that stand only a few blocks down. It’s conveniently located, surrounded by shops and across the street from a little park that we used to play in when we were younger, and seems to be pretty popular with the locals.

When I walk in, the door dings behind me and I hear a small voice grumble “Welcome” to me from the front desk. My eyes roam for the tall and freckled boy, and I maneuver my way through shelves until I find him directing a woman to what she was looking for. The woman leaves him with a smile on her face and brushes past me to find the cookbook she was desperately searching for. When Marco sees me, his face brightens and a smile blooms on his face.

                “Hey Jean!”

                “Yo.” I take in his green apron and smile at his nametag. “You look so official in your little work outfit.”

The smile threatens to fall off his face and he rolls his eyes. “Thank you.”

                “You wanna show me around?”

                “It’s pretty self-explanatory, the sections are marked.” Marco picks up his scanning gun and goes back to whatever he was doing, offering me small glances over his shoulder as he works. “And you aren’t much of an avid reader anyway.”

                “Maybe I’ve had a change of heart.”

Marco snorts at that. He rearranges a couple of books before he turns to raise an eyebrow at me. “Okay, so what can I help you with sir?”

                “Point me in the direction of the adult novels.” I tell him with a wide grin.

                “Alright.” He straightens up and leads me around a couple of corners until we end up in the adult section. Marco gestures for me to go on, and I grab the first book I can find on the shelf without even looking at it.

                “Wait sir!” I call to him as he tries to make his escape. He tilts his head up towards the ceiling in a ‘why me?’ way before he looks over his shoulder. “Do you have any recommendations?”

Marco sighs and responds in a monotone. “Fifty shades of Grey has become very popular these past few weeks, but if you’re looking for something more realistic I’d try the books to your right.” And with that he leaves me to return to his original spot.

I drop into an abandoned seat and look down at the book I’d picked up. It turns out to be a comic, but not the kind of comic I’m used to reading. I don’t know why, but despite the burning in my face, I’m determined to finish it. My eyes travel to the clock; I have a little more than half an hour until Marco gets off.

By the time Marco returns to check on me I’m nearly done with the book.

                “What are you reading…?” he asks carefully as he steps towards me.

I peel my gaze from the pages and look up at him.

“A very intense romance novel.” I reply.

Marco bends down to look at the book in my hands, a frown on his face.

“That is not a novel.”

“Well I learned some things!”

“Do I want to know what?”

I close the book and sneer at him.

“Certain things…like positions and stuff.”

“Positions?” Marco’s face twists in confusion. It’s almost comical watching the blood rush to his face as he puts two and two together; his response is to make a wild grab for the book in my hand. “Jean, put that back!”

“You recommended!”

“I did not!”

I know it’s not a smart idea, but I toss the book over Marco’s shoulder to get it away from him. It goes both higher and farther than I thought it would, and as I watch it tumble back towards the carpet floor I can just imagine time moving in slow motion. Marco turns to watch in horror as a child runs around the corner and ends up getting a book to the forehead. It’s a clean K.O. but I’m not exactly proud of it.

The kid starts crying and Marco throws me a lethal glare.

“Jean!” He hisses at me before he runs to assist the kid, who is now sitting on the floor and rubbing his new battle scar while tears and snot run down his face. Ugh gross.

Don’t get me wrong, I feel super guilty about this. I never intended to smack a kid in the face with an erotic novel, but shit happens and I’m lucky enough to have Marco here to help me out. He’s already stopped the kid from crying, and Marco leads the kid away‒probably back to his mom or something. I figure I didn’t do too much collateral damage if the kid could walk on his own; I’m more worried about my safety when Marco returns‒his apron discarded.

“We’re having a talk on the way home.” Marco says sternly and gestures for me to follow him out. I obey and jump out of my seat, speed-walking past the angry looking cashier and out the bookstore before I can cause any more trouble.

“That kid came out of nowhere dude.” I unlock the car and wait for him to respond. He doesn’t right away, he just settles in his seat and glares at me until I join him in the car. I can’t take his angry face seriously, and he can rarely stay angry at me in the first place, so when I smile at him his own scowl wavers a little.

“You do not throw books in a bookstore, do you understand?”

“Yes, I’m sorry.” I lower my head.

“And you do not go around knocking out little children.” Marco’s frown breaks into a smirk at that. “My boss is going to murder me the next time that happens.”

I start the engine with a cackle and pull out of my parking spot. I can imagine little kids getting hit with flying books, and I know it shouldn’t be funny, but it is.

Marco’s laughing too so I can’t be the only bad one here. He tells me how his boss Levi is the scariest man to ever run a bookstore and about the creepy guy who works in the back who likes to sniff his coworkers.

“It’s quite the experience.” Marco sighs. We drive in a comfortable silence until his phone starts to go off. It fills the car with its trademark, “ _Hey Soul Sister ain’t that Mr. mister on the radio…”_ and makes Marco jump in surprise. He reaches to grab his phone and sighs at the screen, choosing to ignore it and slide it back into his pocket.

“Who was that?” I ask.

“Mina.” Marco replies, his eyes trained on the road. “She’s just…” Marco pauses when his phone starts beeping. Over. And over. And over again.

“Fuck Mina.” I say under my breath and Marco looks at me in surprise.

“You don’t like Mina?” He asks like that fact hasn’t been painfully obvious.

“Is the Earth round? No I hate Mina.” I turn the wheel a little angrily and we whip onto our street. “She hates me too.”

“She doesn’t hate you Jean.”

I can’t help the bitter snort that comes out when he says that. Aside from the side eye, sass, straight-forward insults and resting bitch-face, she couldn’t possibly hate me.

“You don’t know Marco. Clearly you haven’t known.”

“Why do you hate her?” Marco had taken out his phone again, briefly forgetting about it despite the fact that it still buzzes in his hand as I park in the driveway.

“I could write a book with the amount of reasons.” I shrug and fall back against my seat. “But she’s your friend so it doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter.”

“No it doesn’t.”

Marco leans forward with a serious expression. “It matters to me.”

I measure his words and cut the engine. I play around with the keys before I let out a defeated sigh.

“For one, I don’t like how she’s trying to jump in your pants twenty-four-seven.”

Marco widens his eyes in surprise and laughs; I don’t find the idea amusing and glare at him until he stops.

“She is not trying to jump in my pants!”

I raise an eyebrow. “You sure about that? I’m worried she’s always trying to get you drunk so she can jump you.”

“It’s not like that Jean, we’re friends.”

I roll my eyes and open my car door. I spin the keys around my finger and throw Marco a judging look.

“She’s also a bitch.”

“Jean.” Marco warns, his smile vacant.

“You wanted to know.”

Marco silently follows me into the house. I wonder if he’s running it through his head, coming to the realization that Mina is horrible company and as usual, I’m right.

Yeah right.

I snort to myself and climb the stairs.

“There’s got to be another reason.” Marco says behind me.

“There’s a lot but you won’t agree, so why bother.”

“Jean.”

I pick up my pace and storm down the hallway to my room. Talking about Mina just pisses me off, almost as much as talking to her itself.

Marco won’t drop it though.

I flop onto my bed and stare up at the ceiling. I can feel my face fixing itself into its usual scowl.

“It’s always Marco this and Marco that, when’s Marco coming?” I put on my best high-pitched and annoying voice. “Oh my god I have so much I have to tell him!”

Marco drops onto the bed beside me and rolls his eyes. He stares down at his phone and a small smile creeps up on his face.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were jealous.”

That makes me laugh.

“ME? Jealous of Mina? The pigtailed witch?”

Marco shrugs, his attention now focused on his phone. He types out a message to respond to Mina’s previous hundred and I kinda want to knock the phone out of his hand. Instead I stretch out with a yawn and listen to my joints pop.

“What if I told you I felt the same way about Hitch?”

I freeze mid-stretch at the name of my ex. Marco’s still typing on his phone, but he looks a little annoyed; whether it’s at me or Mina I can’t tell.

“I’d believe you one-hundred percent.” I say and sit up. “You know why? Because she’s a horrible person and we’ve all moved on.”

“Uh-huh.” Marco hums, but it doesn’t sound like an agreement. I feel like he’s ignoring me on purpose now; I probably annoyed him enough today.

I reach around to pluck the phone out of Marco’s hand and I use my other hand to push him down on the bed.

“Hey! I wasn’t done!”

I toss the phone somewhere behind me and aim for Marco’s vital points. He’s ticklish on his stomach, his feet, and the most dangerous place to go for is his neck; which is where I’m aiming for.

I don’t say anything as I attack. I just go for the choke hold while Marco tries to throw me off. His angry demands for me to stop quickly morph into giggles as he writhes underneath me; his neck cringing away from my hands in an attempt at self-defense. His laughter fills my room and fuels my smile as I move to tickle his sides, which throws him into another fit of laughter.

“Stop I can’t breathe!” he cries out, but it only makes me tickle him harder. It doesn’t take him long to throw me off, but I climb onto his back to stop him from escaping. I’m laughing nearly as hard as he is; this is the way it should be, there’s no way in hell I’m going to ruin our day over some girls.

Marco slides off the bed and stands up, but I’ve hooked myself against his back with a tight hold on his waist. I have to bury my face in his shirt as I’m pulled away from the bed and left hanging parallel to the floor; I’m dead-set on keeping Marco where he is.

He tries to pry my arms from around his waist and only succeeds in pulling down his shorts a little.

“Jean I’m going to pee!” he shouts and tries to trudge forward.

“Good.” I latch on harder and brace myself for the face-plant. I try to ignore the fact that my face is less than an inch from Marco’s ass, but it’s a little hard when I’m the one pulling his pants off.

“Jean I’m serious!” Marco laughs, his grip getting surprisingly stronger as he twists around to push me off. I fall to the floor since I was half-hanging off the bed in the first place and I watch him dash out of my room, unzipping his shorts as he goes.

The sight alone makes me laugh even harder. I clutch at my gut as I try to catch my breath and push myself into a sitting position. I’m not called the Tickle Prodigy for nothing.

It takes a while for Marco to come back, and when he does he looks defeated.

“Did you piss yourself?”

“No.” Marco laughs lightly. “I almost did though.”

I lean my head back and notice a brief flash of light outside the window. The sky had managed to turn a nasty dark color as the storm began to roll in.

“There’s a storm brewing Freckles.”

“Yeah I heard it in the bathroom.”

“Shall we take shelter?”

“Yup.” Marco snatches up his DS and walks out the door and down the hall. I pick up my own and follow him as thunder rumbles outside the window. I don’t expect to run into him as soon as I walk out of my room.

“What’s up?”

Marco clutches his game against his chest and narrows his eyes.

“Isn’t that an unusual size for a spider?”

In horror, I follow his gaze up to the ceiling where a massive spider dangles on its web. It wavers and Marco and I automatically take a step back. It skitters down its web, spinning precariously over the staircase as if it owned it.

“Just get to the bathtub.” I whisper and Marco obeys. We dash into the bathroom and shut the door behind us to take shelter in our porcelain base. Looks like downstairs is off limits tonight; which also meant no midnight snacks for Marco.

 

Every time there’s a storm, we have a tradition of hiding in the bathtub together; of course nowadays it’s gotten a little difficult since we’re bigger, but it still works. Marco sits on one side and I sit at the other, and in the middle our knees slot together. Marco’s never been a fan of storms; when we were little he would cry whenever he heard thunder coming.

We sit in the dark bathroom and listen to the rain hammer against the windows as the wind grows stronger; the only light comes from our games as we play.

All is nice and calm until the fucking tornado siren goes off. Marco’s head snaps up and he looks warily out the window.

“We’re going to die.” Marco whispers to me and slumps further into the bathtub.

“We’ll be fine.”

“We’re on the second floor and there’s a tornado, we’re going to die.”

“Okay Mr. Pessimist. I’ll protect you.” I let out a huff and try to get comfortable now that Marco’s moved. He stares at me for a while before he goes back to his game. It’s almost comical how the light makes his face look terrifying in the dark; I can imagine us in our own kind of horror movie, taking refuge as the dark storm rolls in with nowhere to hide. Our escape has been blocked by the fucking tarantula in the hallway.

But this is nice too. The only sound that fills the room is the rain, the thunder, and the little music that comes out of our game systems as we play. Marco’s face is set in a small scowl as he plays and his knee knocks against mine occasionally on habit.

I don’t know how long we sit there, but eventually my legs begin to fall asleep; slumping farther into the tub also earns me a nice backache to add to it. I sit up to stretch a little, and when I look up, I notice that Marco’s fallen asleep. His game is abandoned in his lap, still on and running, but his hand dangles out of the tub.

I can’t imagine spending another second in the bathtub, let alone the night. The storm has passed, finally giving Trost the rain it desperately needed for the past month. I think it’s safe to take refuge in my room.

I scoop up my game and stand up, stumbling a little as my legs start to wake up. I punch them a couple of times before I take Marco’s game too. As I watch him sleep, I begin to feel a little guilty about waking him up; the guy falls asleep anywhere, but he looks really comfortable where he is.

“Wakey-wakey.” I lightly shake his shoulder.

“Mmm.” Marco smiles in his sleep, but doesn’t wake up. I’m about to try again when his face quickly morphs into a deep frown. “Fucking spider…”

My hand automatically retracts when I hear that. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him say ‘fuck’ before in my life. Not only that, but his words were _angry_.

“Marco? Please don’t kill me, but you can’t sleep here.” I run my hands through his hair this time, pushing it back from his forehead and massaging his scalp.

Marco cracks open an eye and yawns.

“Mkay.” He murmurs and slowly stands up; he wobbles a little on his feet as he gets out, but I hold him steady and lead him back to my room.

It feels like I dodged a bullet; whatever dream he was having, I would hate to be in that spider’s position considering the expression Marco was making when I woke him up. I don’t think Marco killing me in his sleep is an irrational fear either. You just can’t predict the guy, there was a time where we had an entire conversation and it turned out he was asleep for all of it. He almost sleep-fought me to add on to that…I just hope it doesn’t escalate to sleep walking.

Marco snuggles under my blankets with a content sigh, settling in the very center of my bed rather than his designated side.

“Dude…” I sigh just as my phone buzzes in my pocket. Marco’s already back in la-la land, so I pick up my phone and step into the hallway to answer Mom’s call.

“Hey what’s up?” I keep my eyes trained on the ceiling; I don’t know where that spider went, but I don’t plan on fucking with it tonight.

“Hey darling, how was your day?” Mom sounds relatively happy, which was usually the case when she went anywhere with Sheila. I’m surprised the two weren’t out partying at this hour.

“It was pretty good.”

“Marco’s good too?”

“He’s passed out in my bed already.”

Mom laughs on the other line. “That’s good. Jean…” her tone morphs into something I don’t like.

“What Mom?”

“I need a favor.”

I frown at that. “What do you want from me?”

“You know our neighbors Kevin and Natalie right? Well, they really need a babysitter for tomorrow night and I told them that you and Marco would do it. You’ll both get paid!” Mom talks rapidly, as if talking fast enough would make me less annoyed.

“You want me and Marco to babysit.” I respond flatly. “And that sounded like a good idea to you?”

“Please Jean.” Mom pleads. “It’s just from five to ten.”

“That’s a long time.” I groan. It’s not that bad though; we could use the money and then Mom would owe me a favor in return. “Fine I’ll do it.”

“Thank you!” Mom breathes back. “I’ll talk to you two later, be good.”

“I could say the same to you.”

“Good night Jean.”

“Night Mom.”

With that I hang up and stare at my phone screen until it turns off. I’m not a fan of children, and I don’t think Marco is either, but we were just going to have to make it work.

I tiptoe back into my room, only to pause at my bed. Marco had literally claimed the bed as his own, but I’d be damned if he forced me to sleep somewhere else. I climb over him to settle against the wall and burrow underneath my blankets. I can’t exactly get comfortable when I’m forced to sleep on my side, but beggars can’t be choosers. Marco’s arm hits me in the face when he stretches with a yawn; I’m too lazy to bother moving it. I just close my eyes with a sigh and hope sleep comes to me as quickly as it came to him.

 

 

 

 

 

“No swearing Jean.” Marco reminds me for the millionth time as we climb the steps to the house. I roll my eyes; I’m not a child, even I have some sense of self-control. I say that now, but as soon as we’re in the house and Marco’s shaking hands with the parents while I’m giving them my fake smile, there’s nothing I want to do more than run away. There’s already a child latched to my leg, holding on to my calf as she watches us talk with a toy hanging out of her mouth. I stare down at her in mild interest.

“We’ll leave the rest to you two then.” The mother smiles at us before they turn away. “Thanks a lot!”

I want to beg them to stay.

“Bye!” Marco waves them off and shuts the door. “Now where are the other three?”

I groan in response. How the hell were we going to manage four girls for five hours?

The youngest girl punches the back of my knee, nearly causing my leg to give out on me.

“Jesus! Can’t we put her in a cage or something?”

Marco shoots me a deadly look as another child comes running around the corner.

“Babysitter’s here, babysitter’s here!” An older girl of about ten stops abruptly when she sees us, a look of surprise on her face. “And it’s two boys this time…”

“Boys? Ew!” Two more girls emerge from the hallway to stare at us.

They just keep on coming.

“Hey guys.” Marco kneels down to put himself at their level. He’s turned on the friendly big guy mode and I know I won’t be able to do that. “I’m Marco and this is Jean.”

The kid hanging on to me abandons her place at my side and moves to grab onto Marco. Just like that, I’ve been replaced.

The girls stare at Marco for a few seconds before smiling. It’s weird, they all look eerily alike when they smile and I can only imagine this turning into a horror movie. I am not putting up with any cursed dolls tonight.

“I’m Amy.” The oldest one steps forward. “And that’s Jessica, Bella, and Caroline.”

Marco offers the smallest one a smile. She stares at him in obvious child-like awe before reaching for his face.

“Are you guys gonna play with us?” Jessica asks and gives me a sour look. “He doesn’t look too happy.”

“He’s very happy to be here.” Marco’s words force a fake smile on my face when the girls turn to look at me. _Yes of course, what else would I rather be doing?_

“Maybe you two can teach Jean some things while I make sure Caroline and Bella get their naps in?” Marco scoops the youngest into his arms and she lets out a delighted peal of laughter. Bella runs over to grab Marco’s hand and I watch them go into the living room in shock. How the hell did he win over their hearts in less than five minutes? It was like he was some child-whisperer or something.

And now I’m stuck with the two oldest daughters.

“Come on Jean!” Amy walks behind me to push me up the stairs. “You’re with us now.”

“You gotta do as we say!” Jessica chimes in.

I groan as I’m forced upstairs and pushed into a ridiculously pink room. I’m surrounded by princess things, Barbies, and American Girl Dolls and I really want to run away. The two girls disappear in the closet, only to return with a massive trunk that they drop in front of me.

“Time for dress up!” they cheer in unison.

 

 

 

I don’t know how I do it, but I manage to survive the first onslaught of the preteen fever. I’ve earned Jessica and Amy’s trust along with a lifetime membership to their annual tea parties. I don’t know if I should be honored or not.

“You’re good at painting nails!” Jessica tells me as I finish her top coat in record time. She admires her new purple nails with satisfaction and I can only shrug.

“My mom thought this was an important skill to know at an early age.”

“You’re so weird!” Amy laughs from behind me. I can feel her small fingers weaving through my hair as she puts hairbands in it. “And your hair is weird!”

“Thanks.”

Jessica watches us with her own excited smile. I’ve learned that Jessica is the more spontaneous one; she blurts out random facts or thoughts without warning, always keeping me on my toes. She was now occupying herself by twirling in circles, admiring the way her dress bloomed around her as she spun.

“Where’s Marco?” Jessica sang as she spun past us. “Marco’s cool!”

“Are you two friends?” Amy asks me. I feel her push my hair back from my forehead and tie another band somewhere on the top of my head.

“Yup, since we were five.”

“Do you like him?” Amy leans around to look at me. Her sea green eyes bore into mine in that terrifying way children stare at you.

“I guess…he’s my best friend.” I pop open their Barbie mirror and sigh when I see what Amy’s done to my hair. I run a hand through the little knots and start taking them out.

“Do you like him as more than a friend?” She draws out the word ‘more’ for a painfully long amount of time. I can only laugh at her question while my hand snaps up to grab Jessica by the arm before she crashes into the wall.

“What are you talking about?” I joke back, but Amy looks dead serious.

“Do you like-like him?”

“No? Like I said he’s my best‒”

“Guys come down for dinner!” Marco’s voice echoes from downstairs. I’m grateful for the distraction and nearly trip trying to get out of their room before Amy can ask me any more questions. We all race and are greeted by the wonderful smell of cooking macaroni and cheese.

“He can cook!” Jessica jumps into the air with her arms spread. “Hallelujah!”

Marco tilts his head back and laughs at Jessica’s outburst. The younger girls are seated at the island, snacking on a bowl of goldfish while Marco stands over the boiling pot; I swear they look fresh out of a family magazine.

“Did Jean keep you two occupied?” Marco directs his smile to Amy and Jessica. They smile at him and give a thumbs-up.

“He wasn’t as grumpy as we expected him to be!” Amy joins her sisters at the counter and grabs a handful of crackers, earning a squeal of annoyance from her younger sibling. “He did our nails.”

“Oh?” Marco looks at me with a raise of his eyebrow. I ignore him and situate myself at his side, watching the pot of broccoli as if my life depended on it.

The sisters launch themselves into their own conversations, leaving me and Marco to cook in peace.

“Bedtime starts at eight-thirty.” Marco sighs as he stirs the macaroni.

I check the clock. “It couldn’t come fast enough. How is it only seven?”

Marco shrugs. He hums as he stirs in the cheese and turned off the stove, leaving me to make sure the broccoli is edible enough for picky children.

I wasn’t paying much attention to what the girls were saying, but their conversation eventually grows loud enough for me and Marco to notice.

“I think Jean would be the wife if they were married.” Amy says matter-of-factly.

“So Marco’s the dad? Because he can cook?” Jessica cocks her head to the side and stuck out her tongue. “Or because he’s bigger?”

“He’s more of a dad!” Bella interjects.

“Dad!” Caroline slams her hand on the counter before pointing at me.

“No way Caroline, get out of here!” Jessica throws a goldfish cracker and it bounces off the toddler’s cheek.

“What are you guys arguing about?” Marco turns to give them his full attention. I wish he didn’t. The girls all focus their attention on us with devious smiles.

“You and Jean should get married!” Jessica blurts and her sisters nod in agreement.

“What?” Marco laughs before throwing me an amused side-glance. I glare at the floor. Some naïve part of me believes that if I stare hard enough, the floor will just suck me up and out of the situation. But I know I can’t be that lucky.

“Oh lay off guys.” I huff as I start to scoop dinner into the little plastic bowls on the table.

Marco doesn’t say anything, he just watches in amusement as the girls give him advice on proposing and what colors to make the wedding.

“You guys have it all planned out, don’t you?” Marco just fuels their fire with that smile of his, and because of that they won’t drop the subject until long after they’ve finished dinner.

I can only let my guard down once everyone’s fallen asleep, that is aside from me, Marco, and Amy. The credits to the Lion King scroll across the TV screen, illuminating the otherwise pitch black room. Marco’s outstretched on the couch to my right with both Caroline and Bella asleep on him. Jessica’s asleep on the floor between my legs and Amy occupies the space between me and Marco.

“Time for bed.” Amy says quietly and stands to stretch. Marco rubs his eyes and I can tell he’s close to falling asleep like everyone else.

“Yup.” I murmur before climbing to my feet. I carefully pick Bella up (and nearly drop her because she’s fucking heavy!) and nudge Jessica awake before making the trek upstairs. Marco carries Caroline up to her room in silence; her small frame clings to him in her sleep as if he were her father. By the time we have the girls in their room, only Amy remains, and she stands at the doorway of her room in her pajamas.

“Will you guys tuck me in?” she yawns.

Marco and I share a look before we nod and follow her in.

Stepping into her room feels like stepping into a galaxy; bright stars scatter the ceiling while paintings of different planets hang on the wall. I can’t help but admire the figurines she had lined along her bookshelf and desk as we walk in.

“You really like space, huh.” I murmur, almost under my breath, but Amy still hears me.

“Yeah, I like aliens too.”

“You’ve got a pretty impressive room.” Marco sits at the end of her bed and looks around as well. It makes Amy puff out her chest a little before she climbs into bed and pulls the sheets up to her chin.

“I’m gonna get a telescope and put it in here too!”

“Go for it kiddo.” I tell her as I tuck in the edges of her navy blue comforter. “Stars are pretty awesome when you get to learn about ‘em.”

Amy nods in agreement. She looks between me and Marco with an unreadable expression.

“Will you guys watch us again?”

Marco adjusts the blanket by her chin and gives her a heart-warming smile.

“Only if you want us to.”

“I do.” Amy mumbles as her eyes flit closed. “We still have to plan your wedding…”

Marco chuckles softly as he watches her doze off. I’m the first to leave her room.

I tiptoe my way down the stairs with Marco on my heels and into the living room where we clean up and wait for the parents to return. They get back right on time and thank us before handing us each a nice amount of cash. I figure it wasn’t all bad, but I’m exhausted and so is Marco; we make our slow trek back towards Marco’s place with only sleep on our mind.

“They really wanted us to get married.” I mutter under my breath as we walk down the street. I kick a lone rock and it skitters down the empty street before disappearing into the sewer.

“I couldn’t bring myself to tell them that we’re already married.” Marco sighs from beside me.

That makes me laugh; my voice joins the constant call of cicadas and crickets that fill the Trost air at this hour.

It was so true.

“We are pretty married, aren’t we?” I grin back. Marco matches my smile and tilts his head to look up at the sky.

“Too bad we can’t see the stars here.” His comment brings my attention to the sky. It was nice that Amy had her own constellations in her room, because outside the stars were drowned out by the light leaking in from the city.

“Trost man.” I shrug nonchalantly as we approach Marco’s porch. “It’s hard to find any good qualities about this hellhole.”

Marco could only nod in response. He unlocked the door and we stepped inside, not even bothering to turn on the lights. The house was dead quiet as we made our way upstairs, relying on both memory and the walls to stop ourselves from running into anything.

We both flop onto Marco’s bed; neither of us change out of our clothes or go to the bathroom. We just lay there and stare at the ceiling in a tired daze. Eventually Marco rolls over and buries himself in his pillows while I wait for my mind to finally catch up with my body.

 

 

 

 

 

When I open my eyes, the room is still dark. A pale light filters through the window, illuminating the area in front of me just enough to see Marco return from the hallway. I watch him approach the bed and he stops when he sees me looking at him. He looks a little different, but I can’t exactly place it when he smiles down at me. Maybe it’s the bed head, or maybe he changed clothes? He’s shirtless now, and the moonlight makes it look like he’s glowing.

“Did I wake you up?” his voice is husky from sleep when he speaks to me, and I can only stare up at him in wonder. Why does he feel different?

Marco dips down and I think he’s moving closer to whisper something to me, but instead he presses our lips together. It starts off as a light peck, his lips soft and gentle against mine, but then it moves into a stronger and deeper kiss. It sends sparks through my body and I gasp against his mouth, prompting him to brush his lips against my jawline and kiss along the side of my neck. As strange as it feels, I love the sensation; I bury my hands in his hair and pull him closer, craving the heat that radiates from his body. When Marco brings his lips up to my cheek, I can feel the smile playing at his lips before he pulls back to look at me. I can’t see him that well in the dark, but I don’t have to; his eyes are lit by their own fire, filled with an emotion so intense I don’t even know how to label it other than desire. It kind of makes me happy, seeing as it’s me he’s looking at and no one else.

Marco lifts the hem of my shirt and I let him pull it over my head so he can run his hands along my torso. He plants kisses on my shoulders and collarbones while I run my hands across his hot skin. He moves to kneel on the bed and pushes me down. The bed creaks underneath our weight, but holds us the way it normally does. As he pushes me down I can feel my body aching for him, for more of his warmth, his kisses, I want to hear the sound that comes out of his throat when I play with his hair.

As if he can read my mind, Marco lets out a chuckle and straddles me, causing a rush of heat to surge into my entire lower region. I can feel his erection through his pants and digging into my own, forcing me to let out a loud whimper as Marco shifts his weight and looks down at me while he chews on his lower lip. I run my hands along his hips and stomach, feeling the way his muscles bulge under his skin; my hands linger at the waistband to his boxers. When did we get in our underwear?

Marco changes positions; he lowers himself so we lay chest to chest in the dark, our breaths mingling between each other in quick gasps. It grants me the chance to bury my hands in his hair again and clutch at the back of his neck as he begins to push against me with the exact amount of force and friction I wanted. I gasp against his ear and press my knees against his sides as he rocks us in his own perfect rhythm; the bed squeaks beneath us, our moans fill the air above us, and I don’t want this to end. I hold on to him as tightly as I can and listen to the sound of us breathing in one another as if we were one.

“ _Jean_.” Marco moans as he speeds up; the way he says my name makes me shudder underneath him. I can feel the building fire and increasingly wet feeling in my pants as I’m pushed closer and closer to my limit. I hug Marco tight and my back arches off the bed as I end up whimpering loudly.

“M-Marco!”

I snap awake mid-orgasm with a jolt and the words still on my lips. I’m staring into an abyss of freckles and breathing in the scent of my best friend. We lie nose to nose and Marco’s deep and steady breaths mix with my quick and panicked ones. I roll away from him and end up falling onto the hardwood floor with a loud thud. Marco doesn’t stir from the bed and the fall doesn’t knock me out like I wanted it to.

_What the fuck was that_?

I stare at Marco for a long time, trying to allow my brain to process that it was just a dream, a very fucking realistic _wet_ dream about Marco. _Marco_. What the fuck was wrong with me?

I suck in a breath and slowly get up to walk over to Marco’s closet where I keep all of my spare clothes. My brain is moving at a million miles per hour, and I’m confused, frustrated, and where the fuck is my other pair of sweatpants?!

I finally find them and a clean pair of boxers and slide into the bathroom. As quickly as possible, I shrug out of my damp underwear and hop into the shower to wash away _everything_ : My dream, my confusion, my sweat, and hopefully, my shame.

The hot water is as amazing as ever, and I stand under the spray until I find the will to reach for the shampoo bottle. I try to massage it through my hair without getting it in my eyes and fail miserably. I have to scrub my eyes with water to try and dull the burning sensation in my eyes before rinsing the rest of the shampoo out of my hair. Once I can see again, I spend some time reading the label on Marco’s body wash. Old Spice is a lot different from the Axe shit I’ve been using since middle school. I follow the mechanical pattern of washing and rinsing, stare at the drain and ponder my existence, and finally turn off the water and grab a towel to dry myself off. I pull on my clean clothes and realize that I forgot to grab a shirt; I figure it doesn’t really matter.

I toss my dirty clothes into the basket by the shower and hope that no one is nosy when it’s laundry day and decides to dig through teenage boy’s underwear (looking at you Sheila). I grab my red toothbrush and smear a decent amount of toothpaste on it before bringing it to my mouth. I brush my teeth slowly and stare at my reflection in the mirror: tired brown eyes, spiky dark hair, a dribble of toothpaste down my chin, a shadow of stubble on my face, and the usual unamused look I have in the mornings are all there.

I hear the bathroom door open and Marco comes in. He blinks at me, his eyes unused to the harsh bathroom light I forgot I had turned on. I don’t look at him for long. I drop my gaze back to the sink, suddenly interested in how clean the steel faucet is aside from the spots of toothpaste I’ve dribbled onto it. I wipe it away with a thumb and stop brushing.

“Good morning.” I mumble around my toothbrush as I scrub at the toothpaste stain.

“Good morning.” He yawns and pads past me. I hear the toilet lid open followed by the sound of his piss hitting the toilet water. I run my tongue over the toothbrush and try not to swallow the gathering foam in the back of my mouth. I spit out the foamy stuff and rinse my toothbrush under the cold water; with the bathroom door open I can smell bacon cooking. The toilet flushes and Marco comes to stand beside me to start washing his hands.

“Moms are back?” I keep my eyes on the porcelain sink. Bubbles swirl with water in a whirlpool before disappearing down the drain.

“Mmhmm.” Marco spreads a huge amount of toothpaste on his toothbrush and shoves it into his mouth. I watch him brush, top teeth first, then the bottom, then the tongue and repeat. He brushes quickly but efficiently; he finishes brushing his teeth faster than I had and spits the foam into the sink. He drops his green toothbrush back into place and examines his bed head in the mirror. He runs his hands through it until it falls down normally and catches me staring at him. He turns and starts running his fingers through my wet hair, untangling knots and smoothing down cow licks. I let him try to tame my hair and, unsurprisingly, he gets my hair to fall flatter than I normally can. He looks at the masterpiece with a satisfied look on his face and I have to try to hide the burning in my cheeks. I drop my toothbrush next to his, mutter a thanks, and leave the bathroom to give Marco room to wash his face.

It was just a dream. It was just a dream.

I don’t really know what to do. I throw on a shirt and stand by the bedroom door, staring down the hallway and breathing in the smell of heavenly home cooked food. It doesn’t take long for Marco to finish washing his face and step out the bathroom. He smiles at me as he leads the way down the hallway and down the stairs, which creak under our weight as we pick up the pace to reach the kitchen. Mom and Sheila are already there; Mom is sliding pancakes onto a plate while Sheila is setting the table. The two start when they see us walk in, but their faces quickly break into smiles. They look refreshed, to say the least. Mom’s hair is shorter than it was before she left and a pigment darker while Sheila’s skin looks as if someone polished her with a machine. I swear I don’t understand what spas do to them.

“Good morning boys.” Sheila coos at us and points at the table. “Take a seat.”

As we move to sit down, Mom puts a hand on Marco’s shoulder.

“Marco, did you get taller?!”

Marco blinks at her before he sighs.

“Probably.”

I hear Sheila click her tongue. She sets down the plate in front of us and watches it disappear before her eyes.

“I told you that would happen.” Mom chirps at Sheila with a shake of her head.

“I love it.” Sheila says with a smile, and she almost looks like a child. “How was babysitting?”

“’S alright.” I mumble around my bacon. “If you call four hours of harassment fun.”

“It wasn’t that bad, they liked you Jean.” Marco pours a dangerous amount of maple syrup on his pancakes. “They were well behaved.”

I snort in response to that.

Mom’s hand finds its way to my head. I freeze as her fingers comb through it, and when she doesn’t find any knots, she hums in content.

“Maybe I should volunteer you two more often.”

“No thanks.” Marco and I say in unison. Sheila cackles from across the kitchen and it almost makes Marco choke on his pancakes. That sight alone makes me laugh and Mom soon joins in. With all of us laughing together, it makes me feel as though we’ve made our own makeshift family, and I couldn’t ask for a better one. We don’t need my dad to be happy and family isn’t tied together by some biological definition. As long as we’re all close and love each other, this is fine by me.

As long as everyone’s still smiling, we’re going to be okay.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading and for all the wonderful comments you’ve left us! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and please continue reading.


	5. Directionally Challenged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reiner has the brilliant idea to do a team competition. In the woods. With bugs. And mud. Not to mention multiple people are directionally challenged…

“This is a bad idea.” I mutter after slapping the millionth mosquito off my arm. I’ve only been outdoors for ten minutes and I feel like I’m going to die.

“I think it’ll be fun.” Marco tries to keep his usually optimistic tone, but even I can hear the uncertainty in his voice as we join the ugly circle our friends have formed. This wasn’t the first time we’d been dragged into another one of their bad decisions, but I really wish it were the last.

Speaking of bad decisions, I want to know who told Reiner he could wear that obnoxious neon pink bro-tank outdoors and not expect to get jumped. If no one else was going to do it, I was.

 

Reiner steps into the semi-circle we’ve formed in front of Trost’s nature preserve. The place was a massive forest of death that no one had time to cut down, so they added some fences, slapped on a sign, and named it ‘Trost Trails’.

“With all of us here, I’m going to announce the teams and what we’re up to, so shut the hell up and listen.”

“God Reiner couldn’t you have picked a day that wasn’t, I dunno, a hundred degrees out?” Mina fans herself with her hands and I try not to roll my eyes. Although she has a point, it’s not like I’d ever agree.

Marco throws me a dirty look as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking.

“We will split into two teams!” Reiner ignores her and holds up two maps. “I will lead one team, Thomas is leading the other! On my team are Bert, Connie, and Jean! On Thomas’s team are Mina, Sasha, and Marco!”

It’s Marco’s turn to roll his eyes as the teams are announced. I had a feeling they’d pin us against each other again. If we were on the same team, there would be no competition. Marco and I would leave the others in the dust, as we always have when it came to these kind of games.

“Only the leader gets a map! The first group to reach the rendezvous point at the end wins!”

“What do we win?” Sasha’s eyes widen at Reiner’s words. “Is it food?”

“You have to win to find out.” Reiner winks back at her. “My group, assemble!”

“Good luck.” Marco mutters to me and leaves to join his group. I try not to gag when Mina links arms with him and pulls him into their little group circle on the other side of the path. Reiner claps his hands together and stands in front of us with an overconfident smile.

“Are we gonna win this or are we gonna win this?”

“Doesn’t sound like we have a choice.” Connie mumbles a little angrily from my side. He pokes at the ground with a massive stick that could easily kill a man.

“That’s right Con, you don’t. I’ve been through this place a dozen times, I know it off the back of my hand.” Reiner folds the map and slides it into his back pocket. “I doubt we’ll even need this map.”

Bert sighs at his boyfriend before checking the watch on his wrist.

“Reiner, it’s time.”

“Okay y’all!” Reiner leads us to the path that enters the forest and gestures for Thomas to join him. “The adventure starts…now!”

I don’t know why we start running, but we do, and before each group splits off in different directions, I hear Sasha call out in an eerie voice:

“Happy hunger games!”

Marco’s group disappears to the right and I’m left with my own. We stop running after a couple yards, figuring it’s too fucking hot and humid to be outside in the first place.

As we head into the forest, my inkling that this is going to be a lot more painful than it needs to be refuses to go away.

“So we just follow this main path...” Reiner instructs and he and Bert lead the way. Connie and I walk in silence; the guy doesn’t seem to be in a good mood and hell, I can’t blame him. I got dragged out here to play hide and seek in a forest I’ve never been in for Reiner’s entertainment. I didn’t even put on sunscreen; I can only hope these big ass trees will block any UV rays from reaching my skin.

I focus on putting one foot in front of the other and listen to the different bird calls that seem a little too close for comfort. I’m getting the feeling that this isn’t the most organized group; the only person I’d ever trust with the directions is Bert and he isn’t even in charge of the map.

 

 

 

We follow Reiner for what feels like a lifetime before we come to a little bridge that crosses over a creek.

“We’re making great progress guys!” Reiner announces and I want to push him over the edge. We keep going but the walk is killing me. There isn’t much scenery aside from plants and water, so I don’t have any entertainment other than Bert and Reiner’s offhand flirting in front of us, and that’s something I’d rather not see.

Connie’s silent as we walk, his face fixed into a seemingly permanent scowl. I’m sure he’s pissed that Reiner put him on a different team than Sasha. But that was a given, Thomas would want to be with his girlfriend and God forbid Thomas and Connie were put on the same team. Even though he’s salty about it, I think Reiner’s decision was the best one for him.

I’m not sure I understand what Connie and Sasha’s relationship is anymore.

Two years ago, Connie and Sasha were inseparable. Not only did Connie have a massive crush on Sasha, but she had a crush on him too. Marco, Reiner, and I had a roundabout way of playing matchmaker to get them together. And they were happy. But the next thing I knew, Sasha came running to my house in the middle of the night crying her eyes out and saying that they broke up. I made the comfort food while Marco did the actual comforting, but I never found out what happened; I was too scared to ask. Ever since their relationship has been a little off, and I know it’s none of my business, but I’m starting to get the feeling that things are getting worse between them.

Connie and Sasha still seem to have that bond, and they are nearly the same person, but now that Sasha has Thomas…Connie hasn’t been himself.  He has a horrible case of jealousy, that’s for sure, but I don’t think he’ll ever put Sasha in a situation that would upset her again.

 

We all walk in silence for another ten minutes before I stop in disbelief.

“Reiner, what the hell?”

Reiner looks just as dumbfounded as me. He fumbles for the map and holds it up in confusion.

We have been walking in a straight line for almost twenty minutes, yet somehow we managed to end up at the same fucking bridge.

“That’s not right…” Reiner mumbles to himself.

“No fucking shit it’s not.” Connie groans in frustration and throws down the stick I just realized he’d been carrying this entire time. “We went in a complete circle!”

“Okay chill.” Reiner folds the map up again. “I know where we went wrong. We just missed the path right past the bridge, that’s all.”

I roll my eyes, yet I follow them across the rickety bridge again. We take a path that doesn’t look like it’s been taken in a long time, but I don’t voice my concerns out loud. I just avoid touching any form of plant because I don’t know what poison ivy looks like.

The path leads us to small clearing with a massive rock sitting in the center, covered by moss. I take in the different paths that branch out from us, and it makes me wonder which one will get me the hell out of here.

“Okay guys, hydrate!’ Reiner walks towards the rock reading the map and Bertholdt reaches into his backpack to hand us water bottles. I stare at the rock as I drink, focusing on the small intricate patterns the moss has formed over the years in the clearing where no one would ever see it.

It takes me a while to notice that Connie’s no longer at my side; when I turn around in mild panic, I see him a few feet away kneeling at a bush.

“Connie what are you doing?”

He turns to look at me. He’s chewing something and his hand is clenched into a fist, never a good sign.

“Connie what are you eating?” I ask in horror. When he doesn’t respond right away, I grab his wrist and force his hand open. At least a dozen red berries roll out of his hand and into the grass. “Stop eating things!”

“Nah it’s cool man, they’re good.”

“What kind of berries are those?” They don’t look like any form of berry I’ve ever seen in my life. They’re a pretty unhealthy looking red and too round to trust. There was no point to the buddy system if they couldn’t keep each other alive.

“Huh? Oh I don’t know…they’re sweet though.” Connie shrugged before popping another one into his mouth.

“Cut it out! Just because they taste good doesn’t mean they aren’t poisonous! Don’t trust red berries Connie!”

“Oh come on! I trust raspberries, strawberries…” Connie counts them off on his fingers and pauses when he can’t think of any more. “Cranberries…”

“Don’t. Eat. Any. More. Berries.” I say through my teeth. Connie gets the message and stands up, abandoning his pile of berries and following me back over to Reiner and Bert.

“So we might have to get Connie’s stomach pumped when we get out of here.” I tell them casually as we approach them. Bert’s face is the poster-child of concern and he grabs Connie by the shoulders.

“What did you do?”

Connie rolls his eyes. “Ate some berries, Jean’s freaking out for no reason.”

“Some suspicious ass berries.” I clarify.

“Were they red?” Reiner asks without looking up from the map.

“Yeah?”

Reiner slowly folds the map and returns it to his pocket.

“Yep, Con you might die. All the more reason to keep moving and get first place!”

I can feel my jaw drop in disbelief when the guy points straight ahead, marking the end of our brief resting time. He completely disregards the possibility of Connie being in a dangerous situation for the sake of coming in first place, but then again I’m not too concerned about Connie either; the guy has a stomach made of steel, and it would take more than a few poisonous berries to knock him out, yet alone kill him.

 

 

We follow this new trail for a while; it goes in twists and turns before going uphill for a ridiculous amount of time. Right when I’m about to question whether it’s a mountain or not, we’re going downhill again. I walk close to the edge of the path, using a stick I’ve acquired to poke things that interest me.

After a few more minutes I hear the sound of rushing water. I figure we must be above another creek or river now, and a larger bridge stands a little off in the distance. Reiner and Bert march ahead still deep in conversation, so I assume that means we’re heading in the right direction. At least I’m not seeing any repeats of earlier; we’re definitely deeper in the forest than we’ve ever been, but who knew how close we were to actually reaching the end.

I see a frog sitting in the bushes a little off the path. It watches us with beady little eyes, and then it decides to screech at me as we near it. Never in my life have I heard a frog screech by the way, that was something new; so being my smart self, I decide to poke the frog with the stick to shut it up. But as I step forward, arm extended, my foot slips on the damp soil that covers the hill we’re on. The rest of my body decides to go with the foot rather than falling back, and my life flashes before my eyes.

“Jean!” Connie grabs my arm, but I’ve already got the momentum to bring the both of us tumbling off the path, straight through the thorny bushes that bordered it, and into the freezing water a couple feet below. The water isn’t too deep, maybe about two or three feet, but it’s enough to soak me to my core. Connie crawls out and sits on the bank, his face set in defeat. I join his side and try to wipe off the mud that’s caked itself to my back and arms.

“I’m guessing they didn’t hear us fall.” Connie sighed.

Figures.

I push my hair out of my face and spit out a mouthful of nasty water. If my luck could get any worse, even I would be impressed.

“I guess that means we’re on our own.” I take in our surroundings with a quick glance. A path runs along the stream in the direction we were originally heading and another one leads back into the thicker part of the forest. “I think our best chance is to follow the water.”

“Eh, it’s not all bad.” Connie gets to his feet and picks his way through another cluster of bushes. “We just gotta watch out for snakes.” He holds up a fair-sized stick and joins me as we start down the path. He takes the side closest to the water, poking at the surface every now and then as if he’s expecting something to jump out at us. I wring out my shirt as we go, thanking my lucky stars I put my phone in a water proof case. I’m too scared to ask Connie if he did the same; the last thing I need is him panicking about his phone.

 

 

“We’ve been here for a long time now.” Connie finally breaks the silence after a lot of walking. “It’s been three hours and we still don’t know where we are.”

“This is Reiner’s definition of fun.” I reply crassly and kick a pinecone out of the way. If I’m stuck here after the sun goes down, I swear…

“We could die out here you know.” Connie sighs. “No phone service, no obviously edible food…”

“Exactly.”

“Unless you wanna try those mushrooms over there.” Connie gestures to a nasty clump of them a little off the path. “If they’re gross, maybe at least we can get a trip off of ‘em.”

“Or, more realistically thinking, we’d die.” I shake my head in disdain. I swear Connie would eat anything if he could.

“Do you think the other group’s already done?”

“Probably.” I kick a stone out of my path and watch it rumble along until it veers to the left and lands in the water with a sad splash. “They’ve got Thomas and Marco.”

Connie’s eyebrows furrow as he scowls at the ground.

“Thomas’s not that great.” He mumbles under his breath, but I hear it.

“You still don’t like the guy huh?”

“I never liked him!” Connie nearly explodes at me and I take a half step away. “He’s more like Sasha’s dad than her boyfriend!”

I can’t mask the intrigued smile that stretches across my face.

“What?” he demands.

“Oh nothing.” I shove my hands in my pockets and keep walking, but I can feel Connie glaring at me. “It’s funny when you’re jealous!”

“I’m not jealous.” Connie sulks. “I just wish I was on her team.”

“Instead of Thomas?”

“Yeah.”

I laugh into the thick, humid air. “That’s called being jealous Con.”

Connie falls silent at that and starts poking at the ground a little more angrily than before. I don’t say anything else, I keep my eyes on the forest ahead of us, scanning potential paths and landmarks to help us figure out where the hell we are. I’d like to say that I know we’re heading in the right direction, but I honestly have no idea.

It’s gotten to the point where my shirt is lingering between drying and fusing with my skin, so I’d prefer if someone could just send a helicopter to pick us up. Could they even do that?

I want to give up. If that meant finding a cave and making a home for myself until someone came to rescue me, so be it, but I can’t keep walking mindlessly in one direction hoping it’s the right one. Connie looks tired too, and if we don’t find our way out soon, I won’t be able to stop him from eating anything else.

“Jean?” I hear a voice that I’m not expecting in the least. I stop walking and lift my head to look up at the sky. Connie stops with me and looks over his shoulder.

_This is it. I’ve started hallucinating. It’s only a matter of time before death comes for me–_

“Jean!” The voice calls again, and I whip around to see Marco waving at me from a path slightly above us. He nears the edge before slowly making his way down.

“Marco? What are you doing here?”

Thomas enters my line of sight and slowly approaches us; I hear Connie groan in annoyance.

“We got separated from Sasha and Mina and ended up here.” Marco scratches the back of his head. He looks just as puzzled as we are. “We have no idea where we are and we have the map…why are you guys wet?”

“Jean’s dumb ass made us fall in the creek.” Connie grumbles from behind me.

“Connie ate some poisonous berries.” I shoot back.

Marco’s eyes widen in horror.

“Connie!”

“They weren’t poisonous! If they were, I’d be dead.”

“We’ll all be dead if we don’t figure out this map.” Thomas holds it out for us all to look. Honestly, it just looks like paper with a bunch of squiggly lines and dots. I don’t know where the forest begins or where it ends. Thomas wasn’t making it any better. “I hear the coyotes come out after dusk.”

Marco gives me a terrified look and takes the map.

“I-I’ll figure it out. I’m usually good with maps.” He stares at the map for a while. I find another stick and start poking things, Thomas paces, and Connie tries to fish. We all look up when we hear paper crinkling.

“I can’t read this map.” Marco says in a dead voice, the map wrinkled in his grip.

“Let’s just keep following the water.” I offer and give him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. The poor guy looks like he’s going to start crying. Marco nods as he folds the map properly and rejoins Thomas’s side. We set off down the little beaten path next to the creek in defeated silence.

I can’t help but be relieved that these guys found us. Yeah, there was still a chance that we’ll all die out here, but at least we’ll die together. I have faith though, because Marco and I have never lost a challenge when we’re together, and I’m getting the impression that it’s going to be the same way this time. My main concern resided in keeping Connie from starting shit with Thomas.

Thomas and Marco walk ahead of us, deep in their own conversation as usual. His white blonde hair contrasts with Marco’s dark hair even in the shade; it already looks like the poor guy is getting sunburnt, but I’m not surprised since he’s that pale (like I’m one to talk).

Connie’s fallen silent again, and I have a feeling he won’t talk for a long time. It’s a little awkward, and I think Marco can pick up on it since he keeps looking over his shoulder to give me distressed looks. It’s kinda comical, but I don’t laugh at his expressions as we forge our way through the forest.

 

We should’ve seen it coming, but it was finally time for our path to end. The creek emptied into a somewhat large lagoon, leaving us more lost than we’d ever been.

“Now what?” I groan aloud. The sun was already going down, painting the trees with a beautiful orange glow; I guess it’s a nice sight for my final day on this Earth, but I’d rather it be a massive cheeseburger or a speeding car…at least those were cool.

Marco wordlessly hands Thomas the map and stares into the water as if it would tell him its secrets. I pick at my shirt in annoyance, it still hasn’t dried and I can feel the mud caked up along my back like plaster.

“We have no choice but to go right.” Thomas finally announces. We turn to stare down the only path available to us; it doesn’t look abandoned or particularly special, it was a very ordinary route that was filled with mystery and all of our hopes for freedom.

We follow the path, walking a bit faster now that we have the fear of sundown bearing down on us. With each twist and turn, I’m bracing myself for the next clearing or crossroads that will put us at odds once again when finally–

“The main path!” Marco cries out once he sees the sign lodged into the ground. The arrows point us towards the preserve’s lodge, and I can feel my earlier trickles of panic fading away. We weren’t going to be lost forever!

As we near the lodge, which is surprisingly massive and situated in the middle of the path, I notice that no one’s around.

“You think they’re here yet?” Thomas asks as we approach the front door. Marco walks up to one of the windows and peers inside. He clicks his tongue at whatever he sees.

“What’s up?” I join his side and take a look myself. Sure enough, sitting in the warm and cozy looking lounge is none other than Reiner, Bert, Sasha, and Mina. They’re all chatting with one of the park rangers as if they have nothing to worry about like, I dunno, missing friends?

“Looks like we lost.” I call out to Connie and Thomas.

Connie blinks at me before he throws down his stick and pushes his way into the lodge, grumbling every swear I’ve heard in one breath. Thomas follows after him shortly, leaving Marco and I glaring through the window as if they could actually see us.

“Come on Jean.” Marco gestures with his head for me to follow behind him. We walk past the creepy animal heads mounted on the wall and straight into the lounge where Connie’s already yelling at Reiner.

“We could’ve died out there and you’re all here playing friendly?! Are you fucking kidding me?!”

Reiner stands up. He holds both hands in front of him as if that can simmer Connie down.

“We sent a bunch of rangers out looking for you guys! That’s how we found Sasha and Mina!”

“Like I care Reiner! What made you think this was a good idea?”

“These maps are horrible.” Thomas hands the woman the map and shakes his head. “We tried to read it, but it didn’t make any sense.”

“Ah…” she holds the map in front of her and knits her eyebrows together. She turns it inside out, flips it over, and rotates it in a full circle before she folds it up again. “Well, that’s because this isn’t a map to our preserve…”

All glares slowly go to Reiner.

He stares at the woman in shock rather than looking at us.

“You’re kidding.” Reiner pulls out his map and looks at it again. “Are you sure? What map is this then?”

Bertholdt folds his arms across his chest and stares down Reiner with a surprising amount of annoyance for his character.

“I think this belongs to the preserve the next town over. It looks a little similar, but this isn’t us. I’m sorry you all had such a hard time.” The ranger reaches into her pockets to hand Thomas and Reiner a pamphlet. “These are our maps.”

“Oh…” Thomas opens the map and lets out a low whistle. “This…this makes a lot more sense…”

Sasha runs a hand through her hair, pulling apart her braid before burying her face in her hands.

“Can we just go home? I’m hungry and tired.” She groans. Mina pats her sympathetically on the shoulder and gives Reiner a dirty look.

“Okay, I’m sorry guys.” Reiner folds up his new map and puts his hands together in a pleading gesture. “Please forgive me, I had no idea I printed out the wrong maps.”

No one says anything for a few seconds. I look around to take in everyone’s expressions. Marco looks at him with a pensive expression, while everyone else stares at him through narrowed eyes.

“But you have to admit it was a good test of character!” Reiner ruins his chance at redemption with that one.

I roll my eyes and storm out of the lodge. It seems I started a trend, because when I look over my shoulder, everyone else is following me out into the now dark forest. I shrug out of my t-shirt with a grumble and head towards the sign back at the crossroads.

With a tired sigh, Sasha links arms with me before resting her head against my shoulder.

“Shall we go home naked boy?” she coos.

“I’m not naked.” I huff back and sling my still wet shirt across my back. I catch Marco staring at me from where he stands with Connie and Bert a few feet away, but when I summon him over, he walks up to me without question.

“What are you staring at Freckles?” I put on a scowl and point at him. “You tryin’ to start a fight?”

Marco only blinks back at me. “What the heck is on your back?”

“Heh?” I try not to let the horror show on my face.

Sasha leans back to look at where Marco’s staring.

“Oh no Jean did you shit all over yourself?”

I shrug Sasha away from me in annoyance.

“It’s mud! I fell in the creek alright?!”

“Uh huh.” Sasha dances away from me with a smug smile. “You’re gross! I’m leaving you forever!”

“Sasha you know he’ll change! Give him another chance!” Marco calls after her a little sarcastically. I elbow him in the ribs, causing him to laugh.

“Ready to go home?” I offer my arm, considering everyone’s been linking arms today.

Marco looks at my gesture before he breaks into a bright smile.

“Sure am.” He links his arm through mine and leads the way as we make our way down the main path. We’re lucky that the path leads straight to the entrance (I thought even the main road would lead us astray) and in no time I see my baby parked right where I left it, abandoned in the parking lot with everyone else’s cars.

I unlock it as we approach it, enjoying the little chirp it makes amongst the growing commotion of our friends behind us.

“You should really wipe off that mud before you get in the car.” Marco brings us to a stop before I can even open our doors. I give him a disgruntled snort even though I know he’s right.

“Here.” I hand him my T-shirt. “Just go at it.”

“With this?”

“It’s fine, I can just wash it. If not, I’ll just throw it away.” It’s not like the T-shirt holds any meaning to me. It’s a stupid camp shirt I got years ago and still somehow managed to fit into.

“Okay.” Marco sounds unsure as he takes it from me and turns me around. I stare up at the night sky as he scrubs my back; he starts off gently, but when he realizes that it’s really caked on me he starts scrubbing harder until I think my skin is going to peel off.

“Geez you’re gonna rip the shirt like that!” I jump when his knuckle hits my spinal cord a little too hard.

“This is how you get rashes.” Marco mutters, and it sounds like he’s talking to himself rather than me. He finally stops scrubbing and I can feel that his fingers have replaced my shirt. They pick at whatever he’s missed, and they’re cool against my bare skin. I involuntarily close my eyes at the sensation.

I imagine his fingers skipping across my bare back, tracing lines down my spine to the waist of my jeans…

I jump with a startled shriek, prompting Marco to recoil with a squeak of his own.

“What?!” Marco’s eyes widen at my panicked expression.

That was too close. Too much imagining for me; I blame it on the heat, because of this fucking trip I’m dehydrated and confused and wow I must have actually scared the shit out of him…

“I-I saw a bat!” I tell him, but I end up nearly screaming it. Connie turns to look at me from across the parking lot with a puzzled look. “Y-yeah, a big ass one! Scared the shit out of me…”

“We should get out of here then.” Marco frowns at the sky before climbing into the passenger seat. “I hate bats.”

I give him a firm nod and slide into the car with a tired sigh. I turn the car on and put it into drive without a minute of hesitation. I just want to get the hell out of this forest and into the shower, and probably eat something because I’m fucking starving.

Not only that but I have to clear my mind; I try to focus on the street lights and not Marco’s face as he dozes off next to me, but his lack of stirring makes me glance at him every now and then. I’m trying not to let my imagination run wild again, but I can’t help but worry why I’m remembering _that_ dream now of all times. I want to push it into the far crevices of my mind and forget that it ever happened, but it doesn’t look like it’s going to be that easy.

I spend the rest of the ride home glaring out the windshield in front of me. I don’t pay much attention to the music; the volume is too low for me to hear it unless I concentrate hard enough. I get us home a little before nine o’clock and I have to admit that I’m exhausted.

“Wakey-wakey.” I lightly nudge Marco with my elbow before I shut off the car. The absence of headlights leaves us surrounded by darkness, and I know Marco’s not going to want to leave the car.

“Ten more minutes.” He mumbles back to me without opening his eyes.

“If you get up now, you can go to your nice warm bed instead of sleeping here.” I tell him before I step out of the car. I don’t wait for his reply; I just make my way to the back door of Marco’s house to let myself in. I know he’s going to be right on my heels because Marco plus the dark doesn’t make a nice equation. Sure enough, right as I flick on the lights in the kitchen Marco’s stepping in and shutting the door behind him with a tired sigh.

“Are you going to shower?” Marco asks.

“Yeah I feel disgusting.”

Marco nods and rubs at his eyes. “Yeah that’s probably a good idea. I’m probably going to shower too.”

We both make our way upstairs, dragging our feet as we go, to get to Marco’s room and grab spare changes of clothes. I grab a T-shirt and some shorts before I head off to the other bathroom on the floor while Marco retreats to his own.

 

I have to admit that the warm spray of water is like heaven on Earth. I scrub at my skin, struggling to get most of my back in the shower, and I feel better already. No more dirt or sweat clinging to my body…that’s an amazing feeling.

I finish showering much earlier than I expected to. As I step into Marco’s room to toss my dirty clothes into his hamper, I can hear the shower still running in his bathroom.

I let out a sigh just as my stomach growls. It’s enough to lead me back downstairs and into the kitchen without a beat of hesitation; I plan on eating the first thing I find in Marco’s fridge. My eyes scan the shelf, landing on a Tupperware container that looks like leftovers. To my luck it’s leftover lasagna.

“Fuck yeah.” I whisper to myself as I pop it into the microwave and set the timer; I pace around the kitchen impatiently as I wait for it to be done.

 

 

Marco doesn’t come downstairs until I’ve nearly finished the entire container (which was enough to feed about two or three people), and I look up at him with a guilty expression.

“It’s fine.” He waves my look away with a chuckle before he too begins to rummage through the fridge. His search is interrupted by the shrill ringing of the house phone; it startles me into dropping a nice chunk of tomato sauce on my thigh.

I wipe at my leg a little angrily as I listen to Marco speak.

“Hey mom. Yeah, we just got back a little while ago.” Marco tilts his head back to stare at the ceiling. “I mean I guess, Reiner got us all lost in the end. No we’re fine…”

I take another bite and chew slowly, watching Marco’s expression change to something I don’t recognize right away.

“Yeah…?” He glances at me before he turns to walk down the hallway, his voice fading as he leaves. I stare after him in confusion and mild interest. What didn’t he want me to hear?

I wait a few minutes before I get up from the table and tiptoe into the hallway, pressing myself against the wall so I can see Marco standing near the windows in the living room.

“Yeah I know that–no, I said it’s fine Mom.” Marco’s voice is stiff as he stares at the floor. I can’t tell if he’s irritated or worried.

There’s a brief pause before Marco’s eyebrows pull together and he sighs.

“No…no he didn’t call.” His frown deepens. “Why should I?”

I’m not used to hearing conflict between Marco and Sheila. I don’t even know how it’s possible with Sheila being the nicest soul to ever walk this Earth and Marco being the brightest beam of sun on a rainy day. I guess everyone has parental issues but–

“I told you it’s fine.” Marco’s sharp voice nearly makes me jump, which would no doubt give away my position. The last thing I need is a squeaky floorboard under my foot. “Mom look…I’ll just talk to you tomorrow okay? Have fun with Emma.”

He hangs up with a sigh, pressing the phone against his forehead with his eyes closed. I don’t wait for him to move again; I quickly backtrack into the kitchen and throw open the fridge. I pull out the pitcher of lemonade and busy myself with pouring a glass. Before I sit down I grab my dirty dishes and set them in the sink, listening for Marco’s returning footsteps.

Marco comes in after I’ve already sat down at the island with my lemonade. He pauses at the doorway and leans against it with a slightly rueful expression.

“What’s up?” I ask as innocently as I can manage.

“Just my mom.” He says. He walks over to the island and pours himself a glass, directing his gaze to his cup rather than my face. He looks like he’s pondering something, most likely whether to tell me about the conversation or not.

“Everything okay?” I try to measure his expression as I take another sip; I can feel the worry creasing in my forehead.

“Yeah…I uh…” Marco scowls down at the lemonade as if it had somehow offended him in being too sour. “She just…”

I slowly set my cup down. He looks so frustrated, and under usual circumstances I would laugh at him. He seems to be picking and sorting his words carefully before he speaks again, when he does his voice is impossibly quiet.

“Mom has a new boyfriend.”

I feel my mouth drop open and stare dumbly at him for a few seconds. He studies my face before his mouth quirks into a small smile and he moves to sit across from me.

“Are you saying that this time…?” I can’t make myself say the last part of the sentence. I don’t have to, Marco knows, and he nods his head slowly.

“Yeah it’s serious.” He turns the cup in his hands. “She didn’t tell me until after they had been dating for two months.”

“Two months?” I repeat, letting out a low whistle. I know that must have pissed him off. Sheila was sensitive about her personal life, that much I knew, and I’m sure she’s been confiding in my mom about everything behind our backs. I think that Sheila’s spent a long time with just her son, so it’s made her believe that she doesn’t need anyone else after her husband. This changed somewhat recently, and I don’t know if it’s grief, guilt, or simply the fact that she was moving on that made her go out again. Mom said it was something about finding a father figure for Marco since his dad died when he was so young, but I don’t believe that Sheila needs a reason. Everyone deserves a chance at happiness, and if she could find that, she should hold onto it. I’m sure juggling a love life and a child is pretty difficult, and Sheila didn’t want Marco to get hurt over her choices, so she kept her dating life pretty discreet. Marco only found out about her two brief relationships from overhearing a conversation and picking up the phone when the guy called.

I’m not sure how he feels about his mom going out with another man; he’s only heard about her dates long after the relationships had ended. He never had to meet her boyfriends, yet alone know of their existence when they were dating, but this was different. His mom had a boyfriend now, someone she was serious about…what was going through his mind?

“Yeah. She expects me to meet him and ‘get to know each other’.” Marco’s hands stray from his cup to make air quotations.

“I’m guessing you don’t want to.”

Marco pulls his eyes up to mine and I feel like I could drown in the waves of emotion brewing there. I can see that he’s anxious, thrown off, and threatened because Marco doesn’t like change. Hell, neither do I, change meant instability.

“No I don’t.” He says finally. “She’ll want me to like him…she wants my approval when none of that matters.”

“You’re her son, of course it’s going to matter.”

“If she loves him it’s fine.” Marco says with a hint of finality, and I get the message that he doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. I know that it’s not ‘fine’, it seems to be far from that, but I don’t want to push him when he was so close to not telling me anything in the first place.

“Where are they anyway?” I pick up my lemonade again and sip at it. “Our crazy mothers.”

“Some nightclub.” Marco runs a hand through his hair with a tired expression. “She was in the bathroom when she called and I still had to concentrate to hear her over the music in the background.”

I roll my eyes. I should have figured so when we came home to an empty house. Of course, it was possible they were at my house instead having another one of their movie nights; it happened so often neither of us give it much thought anymore.

“I’ll crash here then I guess.” I stand up and stretch, listening to my joints pop back into place.

Marco nods and takes my empty glass with his to set them in the sink; they clink together loudly when he puts them down a little too angrily.

I put a hand on his shoulder and he starts as if I surprised him, his eyes flying to my face.

“Don’t think too much about it, okay?” I give him a hearty pat and a smile. “You’re gonna get wrinkles if you keep scowling like that.”

Marco lets out a gruff laugh.

“Like you’re one to talk.”

“Shut up.” I turn my back to him and stride out of the kitchen towards the staircase. Once I reach it, I turn around with my hand on the banister, but Marco isn’t behind me. I stare down the hallway for a few seconds to see if he’ll ever emerge, but he doesn’t. My frown deepens as I climb the stairs and go to his room alone; I can’t help but worry about the guy—it makes me wish I was better at the whole consoling thing. Marco was the one who did that…but what happened when he needed to be consoled?

With a huff, I flop onto Marco’s bed and wrap myself in his blankets. It brings back an unfortunate memory that I don’t want, causing me to groan into the pillows in frustration.

I fall asleep before Marco comes back.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry this is out so late again guys…But at least it’s out now, right? Thank you all for keeping up with this, we can’t tell you how much we appreciate all the views this has gotten, as well as kudos and comments. Hope you all are having a great summer, and enjoy the next chapter!


	6. Fellow Cowboy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crew goes to Connie’s family farm for the day, and of course before they leave, drunken shenanigans ensue.

I can hear the sound of Mom’s footsteps approaching the door. I don’t stop packing or glance over my shoulder to watch her come in; I just listen to the way she stops and hesitates at the threshold before knocking lightly on the open door.

“You can come in.” I murmur as I toss another pair of underwear into my duffel bag. I don’t know why she always acts so shy when she comes into my room, considering I don’t have much to hide from her. I’m not one of those kids that keep stacks of porn mags out or my stash of drugs in my sock drawer.

“Not done packing yet?” I turn around to see Mom lean against the doorframe and give me an amused smile.

“Just about.” I sigh and zip up the last compartment. I feel pretty accomplished, although I procrastinated packing until the last possible moment, I still managed to pack everything in less than an hour with ten minutes to spare.

“Where are you guys going again?”

“Connie’s uncle has a farm a little out of Trost.” I remind her as I sling the bag over my shoulder. “Don’t worry, there’s a lot of us so we all can’t be murdered.”

“Don’t joke about that.” Mom groans, following me out of my room and down the stairs. “You would be the boy who trips and falls while being chased.”

I grunt at her response, but I don’t deny it.

“Make good choices and stay together.” I try not to roll my eyes at her short mom-speech and drop my duffel bag onto the couch so she can pull me into a tight hug. I’m already a head taller than her, and I can see how frustrated that makes her when my collarbone presses against her throat.

“I promise we will.” I actually can’t guarantee our safety when Reiner would be the one driving, especially in the fucking Death Machine for over an hour. We could die before we even passed the borders of Trost.

Speak of the devil, I can hear Reiner laying on the horn as he turns onto my block, music blasting out of the car like always.

Mom wrinkles her nose at the massive car that pulls to a stop in front of the house. Her eyes go from the car to me before she lets out a defeated sigh and pets my head like I’m a cat.

“Have fun.” She waves over her shoulder as she heads down the hall and disappears into the kitchen. I take a deep breath and pick up my bag, throwing open the front door to squint into the bright sunlight. It’s like a weird film where the car pulls up and everyone is so cool that they all wear sunglasses in the topless car; I see Ymir, Connie, Marco, and Reiner all wearing matching poker faces with nearly identical sunglasses on their faces.

Was I the only one who missed the memo?

I’m lucky I brought them anyway; they hang on the collar of my shirt, which is where they probably would have remained if no one prompted me to wear them.

I take my time approaching the Jeep, taking in the surprising fact that Bertholdt wasn’t there.

“Where’s your boyfriend Musclehead?” I call out to Reiner as I toss in my duffel bag. Marco scoots closer to Connie to make room for me in the backseat.

“Don’t tease him, he’s taking it hard.” Ymir tries her best to be soft, but a sneer nonetheless makes its appearance on her face. “He’s too dumb for Bert right now.”

“He has college stuff to do okay?!” Reiner growls back at her, the sunglasses hiding the glare that I know he’s giving. “He’s busy and he couldn’t come, end of story.”

“So to compensate he brought me and a ton of booze so be grateful.” Ymir sighs as she slides farther back in her seat.

“Is that alright Connie? Won’t your uncle and aunt be hanging around?”

Connie waves a hand dismissively.

“Nah not tonight, they’re going to some fair and spending the night at a friend’s place. We got the whole farm to ourselves.”

“Sounds like the set up to the perfect murder.” Ymir murmurs under her breath. I pretend like I didn’t hear her. I hop into the car and settle against the door, bracing myself for the long ride.

I direct my gaze out of the car and watch as we speed down the ramp and merge onto the highway. The wind whips at the hair of everyone in the car, aside from Connie’s bald ass head and Reiner’s short military cut. I don’t want to think about how long this car ride is actually going to be, and it’s only a matter of time before Reiner starts making us play games to keep him entertained; for now, it seems like his iPod will do that for us.

“Who else is coming?” I ask Connie.

He frowns and drops his chin into his palm.

“Mina, Eren, Armin, Sasha…and Thomas.” I notice the way he growls out Thomas’s name.

Marco, who’s sitting between us, gives me a sassy look but keeps his mouth shut.

“Almost the whole gang huh.” I mutter. Marco nods in agreement before turning his full attention to his phone.

That’s how we spend our car trips; Reiner shouts along to his music, in his own little world, while the rest of us pass the time by scrolling through social media. Call it the future or whatever, but it’s a little depressing. Of course, I’m all for the ‘avoiding social interaction’ thing so I can’t complain too much, right?

 

 

“Anyone want ice cream?” Reiner asks us all suddenly. I was on the brink of dozing off, and as I look around I can see that Connie’s already long gone. Marco’s abandoned his phone in his lap and just stares at the road ahead of us; the only one who answers Reiner’s question is Ymir.

“I fuck with ice cream.”

“Majority rules.” Reiner says happily before whipping us onto the exit ramp. The sudden shift in speed makes us lurch in our seats and bump along the road towards the oasis. He wastes no time in snagging a parking spot by the main entrance.

“Y’all want anything?” Reiner directs his question to Marco since he’s the only one with his eyes still open aside from Ymir; I keep my eyes closed and pretend to still be asleep.

“Chocolate cone.” He murmurs back.

I think I doze off for a couple of minutes because when I open my eyes again, we’re flying down the highway and I can smell chocolate ice cream. I switch from leaning my head on the windowsill to leaning on Marco’s shoulder. He shuffles a little to make me more comfortable while I tilt my face to look at his ice cream.

Without saying anything, I stick out my tongue. Marco rolls his eyes, but still brings the ice cream to my mouth so I can take a bite out of it. I hum a thank you and get comfortable for the rest of the ride.

Believe me when I say it takes forever.

Despite Reiner driving at nearly ninety miles per hour the entire time, it still takes us four plus hours to pull up in front of the farm gates. The place is situated in the middle of nowhere; marked by old and faded signs along the outer roads that no one seems to use. It definitely stood out from the empty fields and river patches we saw on our way here.

“Looks like we beat Thomas.” Reiner muses as he turns the car and maneuvers down the skinny dirt road that runs down to the main house. It makes me wonder if Thomas will even be able to find this place without having Connie for a navigator. If we weren’t paying attention, I’m sure we would’ve driven right past the farm entrance and ended up another town over. We had to smack the bald kid awake to tell us where to go, and his half-awake instructions didn’t sound reliable in the slightest.

I watch us pass the giant barns and silos in mild awe. I would be more excited if my senses weren’t being overpowered by the smell of pure animal shit. Lovely.

Once we roll to a stop, Connie (who has finally managed to fully awaken) hops out the car and climbs the old porch steps to the house with rekindled energy. While he rings the doorbell, we stretch out our stiff limbs and try to wake up.

A small tan woman appears at the screen door, and with a delighted squeal she throws open the door and pulls Connie into a crushing hug. A few moments later a much bigger and burlier man joins her side where he gives Connie an affectionate pat on the head before waving us all to come in.

“Finally a man who looks like he could kick your ass.” Ymir pokes Reiner’s bicep with a crass smile. “I dare you to arm wrestle him.”

“Hell no.” Reiner mutters and cuts the engine to the car. “You just want to see me lose.”

“No of course not.”

I lift my head off of Marco’s shoulder with a yawn.

“Wake up Fiona.” Marco muses with a smile.

I throw him an annoyed look before I open my door.

“Did you just make a Shrek reference?”

“Well I can’t call you Sleeping Beauty–”

“Can it Freckles. Ogres can be beautiful too!”

Marco shrugs before following me out the car. “…right.”

 

We meet Connie’s aunt and uncle, who turn out to be really chill people.

“Whoa there man you are built like an ox!” Connie’s uncle plants a firm hand on Reiner’s shoulder and gives him a bright white smile. “How often do you work out?”

Just like that he and Reiner launch into a deep conversation about football and heavy lifting, and they detached from the rest of us somewhere in the massive farmhouse.

“If you’re going to party, be careful okay? There are coyotes at night and they can get mean.” Connie’s aunt warns us as she serves us all glasses of lemonade. Her light brown bun accentuated her shockingly round face, which made her look like she was still a child. “Connie I don’t wanna hear about you wrestlin’ with no coyotes!”

“Yes Tessa.” Connie sighs.

“Aren’t there more of ya comin’?”

“Yeah, they should be here soon.” Connie casts his gaze out the window. “They might have gotten lost…”

“Well pass on our greetings to them yeah? Me and Hank have to get goin’.” Tessa turns to us and smiles. “I wish we could stay and hang out with y’all for a little longer, but we have errands to run and we won’t be back until tomorrow afternoon. Just keep an eye round the farm for us, Connie will show you how to feed the critters.”

After we all finish our lemonade, Tessa and Hank leave in their less threatening looking Jeep.

 

 

Connie gives us a tour of the farm, starting with the two-story farmhouse he claims to have been born in. As we make our way to one of the barns, Thomas’s red SUV rolls down the dirt path to park next to Reiner’s car.

Sasha is the first to hop out; she holds her floppy sunhat to her head as the wind threatens to pick it up and carry it away. It’s a new addition to her wardrobe for sure, because Sasha has never been one to wear hats like that. Unless it’s a ski mask on Halloween or a baseball hat at a game, Sasha doesn’t wear ‘em. I figure it must have something to do with Thomas, but that wasn’t any of my business was it?

Sasha abandons her car and skips to us with a wide smile.

“Jeanbo! You wouldn’t believe how horrible the ride here was! Eren kept farting the entire time!” Sasha flies to cling to my arm and puffs out her cheeks in a pout. I gingerly lift the hat off of her head and examine it with a skeptical smile before I direct it at her.

“Is it too much?” Sasha takes my look as something else, it seems.

“Nah.” I shrug and put it back on her. “It looks good on you.” I want to say how it doesn’t match her, but I decide against it.

Sasha bounces over to Marco and Reiner after she gives a hearty smile to Connie. He mumbles a ‘hey’ and drops his gaze to the scorched grass at our feet. As much as he tries to hide it, I can see the light tint in his cheeks at the small interaction. Man, Connie had it bad.

“Hey guys.” Thomas leads the group towards us like some sort of pack leader. Eren and Armin tag along behind Mina, whose eyes are locked on Marco like a tiger marking its prey. I can already feel my annoyance bubbling to the surface, which means it’s time for me to start putting my distance between Marco in order to avoid the plague that follows him.

“Is it alright if we just leave all of our stuff in the car?” Mina asks.

“Yeah, that’s what we did. I’m giving a quick tour and we have to feed the animals, but after that we can set up everything.” Connie doesn’t acknowledge Thomas’s presence whatsoever, and he barely looks at Mina when he responds.

I hope Connie isn’t going to mope this entire trip. I mean, I get it, maybe having the girl you like flaunted around you all the time wasn’t that fun. But Connie couldn’t make it any more painfully obvious, and it didn’t make anything better.

I turn to look at Sasha. She’s clinging to Marco now, rambling about something she saw on the ride here, and I can see that Marco’s only half-listening to her. He glances up to meet my gaze, and he looks just as worried as I am. I don’t know if Sasha is simply feigning ignorance, or if she really doesn’t know what’s going on.

“On with the tour Con.” Reiner nudges Connie out of whatever trance he was in; staring off into the distance as if he had just remembered something.

“Oh, yeah sorry.” Connie leads us down the path and gestures to the door of one of the barns. The rusted red paint flakes off the door like little pieces of paper, but the whole rustic theme is kind of cool.

“Our first customers are the cows.” With that, Connie pushes open the heavy doors and we’re all hit with a blast of rancid air.

“Oh that’s rich.” Reiner coughs as we walk in. There are six cows meandering about the place, and the biggest one turns to look at us with beady eyes.

“Cecilia!” Connie coos as he runs to the cow. It makes an affirmative moo as Connie pulls her into an embrace, continuing to chew on whatever meal she was still digesting.

“The cow’s name is Cecilia.” Eren’s voice drips with disbelief as he watches Connie pet the massive animal in front of us. Armin chuckles at Eren’s expression and walks over to one of the cows eating in the corner. It appears that Armin’s actually some animal whisperer; the cow’s eyes lock on Armin and it starts licking him like he was her long lost lover.

“Maybe she thinks Armin’s hair is food?” Reiner cocks his head to the side as we watch, rooted to our spots right at the door. I don’t want to risk stepping in anything, let alone being harassed by an animal that weighs at least six hundred pounds. Marco’s the fearless one, and he’s dragging Mina towards one of the lazier cows.

Connie forces Reiner and Eren to help him fill the water and food containers. I think he knows better than to enlist the help of me, Marco, and Thomas. The two can’t say no and end up following Connie while grumbling under their breath, eyes scanning the floor for suspicious puddles and piles of crap.

Sasha watches one of the cows with such an intense expression it makes me think she’s having a telepathic conversation with it. She looks a little troubled when Connie ushers us out the barn and back into the fresh air.

Our next stop is with the chickens, which I can handle. They scramble away from us when we step inside the coop, stirring up feathers that I know aren’t safe to inhale. We all cover our noses as we help Connie pour the food and sweep away enough feathers to make at least fifty pillows. Eren tosses around an egg that he found, which only ends up broken on Reiner’s back. The blonde meathead drags Eren outside and God knows what happened after that. By the time we come out, Eren is pouting outside the door and Reiner’s back to his lively self.

 

“Jesus having a farm sounds terrible.” Sasha groans as Connie drags us towards the stable near the outer rim of the farm. The walk between each destination is killing us, yet somehow Connie seems to be full of energy. I think being around the animals has perked him up enough to forget about Thomas for the time being. It’s like he comes to life when he’s working here; there’s an inner light in his eyes I haven’t seen before as he tells us about his past experiences on the farm while leading us down the dirt path I’ve tripped on at least a dozen times so far. I do my best to ignore Mina’s annoying voice behind me, but I can’t exactly do the impossible.

We push open the stable doors to let the horses out into their fenced-off field. They seem pretty ecstatic, and let out little whinnies as they gallop out and about, with Connie shouting and chasing after them. They seem to know Connie well; they nibble at his bald head and let him chase them around like they were playing a game.

“Con really comes to life when he’s here, huh.” Reiner nudges me with a smile that looks a little too tender on his face, and it makes it seem like he’s going to start crying. Honestly, I wouldn’t doubt it. “Maybe we should come out here more often?”

I can only nod. This does feel like Connie’s natural habitat, not like I’m calling him a wild animal or anything, but he always gave off this country vibe since the day I met him. If it meant making the drive out here every now and then to make Connie smile like that, I wouldn’t mind.

“Yo Jean I found your biological father!” Eren’s annoying voice ruins the moment. I drag my eyes to where he stands, petting one of the horses with a smug smile on his stupid face. “You should catch up with your family, I think they missed you!”

“Fuck off Eren!” I shout back. My voice attracts one of the horses, and it walks up to me with its black eyes focused on me like how Sasha focuses on hamburgers.

_Shit._

Do horses eat people? No Jean, stupid question.

As the horse gets closer, I tentatively hold out a hand. I’d rather it bit off my hand than my face. The white horse sniffs at my hand before nibbling at it. It lets me pet its muzzle, and I remember the time I first went horseback riding. Not only did my horse hate me, but it had to try and eat everything on the path. The group ended up leaving us behind and being the crybaby I was, I threw a fit and made the rest of the ride miserable for everyone.

This horse isn’t bad. In fact, I think it likes me, which is a relief because I really didn’t feel like getting attacked by a horse today. If that happened, I would _never_ hear the end to the jokes, and I would officially have to become a shut-in.

I glance up to see Marco watching me with what can only be translated as the proud mom smile. I give him a smug grin before going back to the horse.

Eren’s still spouting nonsense about me bonding with my “dad”, and I throw him another dirty glare. I think the stars aligned for me at that moment, because as Eren took a step back laughing his ass off, he managed to step in the biggest pile of horse shit I have ever seen in my life.

“OH SHIT!” Eren shouted. It startled a couple of the horses, including mine, and they all ran away from him to the other side of the field.

“Careful man don’t spook the horses!” Connie ran up to Eren to see what happened. He took in the pile of poop and then Eren’s foot, and started laughing with the rest of us. “Karma’s a bitch isn’t it Eren?”

That marked the end to our farm tour. Eren pouted the entire way back towards the house, and I couldn’t be happier. The sun was finally beginning to set, and we could see it clearly over the trees and smooth fields in the distance. It was completely different from the city, and I’m excited to finally see the stars again. There are no tall buildings to block the view, or the constant crowded feeling of the suburbs here, and it made the air feel a little easier to breathe.

 

We unload the materials for our bonfire and head down a different trail; it’s out past a little forest and situated near the bank of one of the local rivers. Sasha and Mina run over to dip their feet in the water while Ymir and Reiner pull out the drinks.

“Holy shit what are we having, a frat party?” Connie stares down at the stash in horror, but Reiner only grins back at him.

“Nah we’re just having some fun tonight!”

‘Some fun’ constitutes a case of beer, two handles of vodka, a bottle of tequila, and some mixers I’m sure they bought at our local grocery store.

“Are you trying to kill us…” I mutter as I help Armin set up the folding chairs. He gives me a humored smile when we put down the last pair; I watch him go back to join Eren where he converses with Sasha and Mina at the river bank.

“Kirschtein.” I look up when Ymir calls my name and she hands me a red cup that’s filled to the brim.

Oh no. It has begun.

“Ymir no….” I try to give it back but she shoots me a deadly look.

“I made it specially for you, so you have to drink it.” Ymir makes Sasha her next target, but Sasha is much more enthusiastic about her drink than I am.

I can only sigh and sip my drink while Connie and Reiner set up the fire. Ymir’s standing as bartender again and I don’t know how this night is gonna turn out.

The drink Ymir made me is really sweet, which means she put an insane amount of alcohol in it and that means she’s trying to fuck me up tonight. I can only hope she didn’t put tequila in it, since tequila equals bad decisions in my book, but knowing Ymir…

Reiner gets the fire going after a few rounds of angrily trying to spark a flame and spraying a dangerous amount of lighter fluid over the pile of logs and sticks we’d accumulated. Connie brings out the marshmallows and s’more materials just in time for the sun to go down. Sasha thinks no one is looking when she grabs an entire pack of chocolate, but my judgmental glare across the fire makes her put half of it back.

When I finish my cup, I find myself in a better mood. My body is warm and buzzing, enough to tell me that Ymir isn’t messing around with the drinks. I don’t even react fast enough to say no when she hands me another drink with a sly smile.

“This one is called Skull Crasher.” She whispers.

“What was the last one called?”

“Backwards Thong.”

I roll my eyes. I don’t know where she comes up with these fucking cocktail names but she needs to stop.

Speaking of who needs to stop.

I look over my shoulder to watch Mina engage herself in a conversation with Reiner, Thomas, and Marco. With her hand firmly placed on Marco’s arm, she leans her body weight against him as they all talk. Marco doesn’t pay much attention to it, just like always. I look back to my drink and a thought flashes across my mind. Where’s Armin and Eren? That, and where was Sasha and Connie?

I walk away from the fire and take a few steps into the trees. I don’t have to go far; even though it’s dark, I can see two figures leaning against one of the larger trees just off the path. It’s hard to make out who it is, but I can only assume the taller one is Eren and the most likely one with him is Armin. I’m about to call out and ask what the hell they’re doing when Eren pulls Armin against him. I cock my head, unsure of what they’re doing until I hear the unmistakable sound of kissing.

“Oh god.” I whisper and stumble back, retreating as far away from the situation as I can. Armin and Eren were a thing?! Since when?

“Whoa there drunk boy.” I bump into Sasha, who’s somehow appeared back at the bonfire with a beer in her hand. “What’s wrong did you see Slenderman too?”

“Don’t mess around with that Sasha.” Reiner called back. I’m surprised he heard her from over there.

“No, I uh-just uh…” I look at the fire, hoping it could burn the image out of my eyes. I don’t know if I should tell her what I saw or not, but right now I feel like it isn’t my place. “I-I’m just really drunk don’t worry.”

Sasha cackles and gives me a hearty pat on the back.

“Well drink up cuz there’s more where that came from.”

 

 

I take a seat under one of the trees and just watch the fire burn. It sends sparks flying into the night sky, which is now full with the stars we couldn’t see in Trost. I don’t know if me being drunk makes the whole experience even crazier than it would if I was sober, but it’s absolutely fucking beautiful. I’m so mesmerized that I tune out everything else and just look at the sky while sipping at my drink. I don’t even notice that Connie has taken a seat next to me until he nudges me.

“Yo man, you look like, like some philosopher or some shit.” Connie slurs with a bright smile. I can only laugh at his comment, and it brings me back down to my surroundings. The fire is still going strong, and we have broken into our little groups. I can see Reiner talking with Sasha and Thomas, while Marco and Mina talk with Armin and Eren over by the water. I can’t see Ymir anywhere, but she did have the tendency to just disappear sometimes.

“I was thinking how cool the stars look here.” I look at how much Connie has left in his cup and compare it to mine.

“Okay, but you’ve been sitting like that for like twenty minutes.” Connie breaks into laughter that forces him to fall back against the tree. “I didn’t want to bother you, but your neck is gonna cramp up like that!”

“True.” I take another sip of my drink and try to taste for tequila. It still just tastes like lemonade and regret. Connie sighs and stretches out, his eyes trained on the fire. He’s lost a little of the glow in his eyes from earlier, but he still looks pretty happy.

I test the waters a little. “How are you doing Con?”

I think he knows what I’m getting at. He tilts his head a little and makes a thinking noise before reaching for his drink.

“I’m doing good. A little annoyed, but isn’t that always? I mean, there’s nothing I can do about it.” He takes a large sip of his drink before smirking at me. “I’m not gonna start a fight or anything, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Nah.”

“I’m worried you might fight Mina. She’s all over Marco, it’s even worse when she’s wasted apparently.” Connie crosses his arms and glares at her from across the fire. “No matter how drunk you get someone… they won’t want to be with her.”

“Thank you!” I say in exasperation. _Someone gets it_.

Connie climbs to his feet and wobbles a little. I pretend not to notice.

“Imma go take a leak.” He announces before leaving. I can only chuckle at how drunk everyone seems, and I’m brought to my own sad reality when I finish my second drink. I spend a few minutes debating whether or not a beer is worth the hassle of getting back up and ultimately decide that, yes it is.

As I get comfortable with my beer, I allow myself to zone out again. Sasha’s cackling fills the night air and I love it; I’m glad we came out here today. At first I was iffy about the idea of being out in the blazing heat in the middle of nowhere, especially with Reiner driving us there…but I wanted to experience what Connie truly considers home. This was his birthplace, and he never considered Trost as anything more than an annoyance to him, so coming out here was starting to feel like a good choice.

 

 

Mina walks past me before she stops to backtrack. She stands in front of me with the same-old shit-eating smirk as always, and both she and I know I’m too drunk to be nice to her.

“Do you always look that dumb when you’re zoning out or am I just noticing this now?”

I take another slow sip of my beer and swish it around my mouth before I answer.

“Can you move a little to the side? It’s not dark enough to hide your ugly face yet.”

“Wow, classic Jean. Where’d you get that from, the back of a milk carton?”

“No I pulled it out of my ass, now fuck off.”

Mina seems to consider the idea, but instead takes another teetering step towards me. I narrow my eyes.

“You and Marco are complete opposites, why the hell are you two best friends?”

“None of your business.” I proceed to take another drink, but I figure I might as well say it while it’s on my mind. “And just a head’s up, if you could make the fact that every minute of your life you’re trying to flirt with him a little less obvious, we’d all appreciate it.”

“Oh shut up Jean! What the hell would you know?”

“I know that you’re a stupid, desperate bit–”

“What are you two fighting about now?” Marco makes his way over to us. I notice how he has to keep a hand on the trunk of one of the trees to steady himself. At least someone’s going all out.

“Jean called me a bitch.”

“I didn’t call you shit.” I hiss back.

Marco looks between the two of us and lets out a long sigh.

“Mina, Thomas was calling for you.” He points off in the general direction and, with a groan, Mina leaves us.

I expect Marco to take a seat next to me or to at least lecture me standing up, but instead he kneels in front of me until we’re eyelevel. He fails to understand that he’s no longer coordinated to do that and falls to his knees, pushing me back, and settles on my lap.

“Steady there.” I set my beer down and hold him by the shoulders. His head ducks down as a few giggles slip out before he steels his expression into something neutral and sets his beer down beside me. With force, he smacks his hands against my cheeks once and holds my face in an iron grip. I try to pull away, because I know what’s coming.

I started this trend when we were little where I would blow in Marco’s eyes when he pissed me off (yes, I know it was very childish we were nine okay). It caught on, and it became our way of torture to each other, kind of similar to a spray bottle to a misbehaving cat.

“No, Marco I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” I squirm under his hands in a panic, but he doesn’t let go. A wicked smile spreads across his face as he makes the first powerful blow.

My eyes shut involuntarily and I let out a pretty unmanly shriek as hot air hits my pupils. I can smell the sweet beer on his breath, and that’s not what bothers me. It’s the fucking sting that comes from it. It’s enough to distract me from the uncomfortable pressure Marco’s putting on my crotch; at least for the moment.

My cries for mercy begin to morph into my own bout of drunken giggling, and Marco’s attacks start to get shaky and lose their power.

“What the hell are they doing?” I hear Reiner call somewhere nearby.

“Are they having sex?” Ymir’s back and her voice is full of excitement.

That launches Marco into a full fit of laughter. He leans onto me, with his forehead pressed against mine, and we just _laugh_.

We laugh until it hurts and tears run down our faces. Marco shakes against me as his laughing turns wheezy, and I adjust my position a little so I can pat his back with one hand and bring my beer up to my mouth and drink again. With my chin resting on Marco’s shoulder I can now see the crowd we’ve attracted; Reiner, Ymir, and Sasha watch us in what looks like pure amusement. I can see Thomas and Mina making their way over towards us, and Mina’s expression is fucking priceless.

“Is Marco baby okay?” Sasha coos from Reiner’s side.

“He’s a little sleepy.” I muse. I’m not surprised to see him reach around me to pick up his beer and start drinking it again. “I think we’re gonna crash soon.”

“Don’t wanna move.” Marco mumbles, but it’s only loud enough for me to hear.

“You don’t have to.” That’s a lie, I’m really starting to feel the ache between my legs now and I don’t want another pool situation right now…

The crowd slowly dissipates and I can hear Connie talking about sleeping arrangements to Reiner and Sasha. Mina curls her lip at us before going back to Thomas.

“How much did you drink Freckles?”

Marco finishes off his beer and sets it next to mine.

“I dunno.” He slurs. “Like four.”

I laugh into the night air and hold him in my lap.

“Four of what?”

“Ymir’s death drinks.” Marco leans back to look me in the eye. I can see the flush in his cheeks and he’s so far gone it’s hilarious. “I think I’m going to die.”

“You’re not gonna die.” I pat his shoulders and try not to give away my true thoughts. He’s gonna feel it tomorrow, and I do not have the patience for him to be puking on me.

We sit for a little while longer in silence. The bonfire slowly dies to a dull ember and leaves us all suspended in darkness. Everyone uses their phones as flashlights to find all the beer cans and leftover snacks as we clean up and pack to leave.

“The cabin is this way.” Connie waves to us.

I have to yank Marco to his feet and we both stumble along with everyone else. We try not to trip on any branches and rocks as we move along the path, and the world is spinning too much for me to keep us in a straight line. Marco laughs at our feeble attempt to get there in one piece.

I tell you, leading a group of drunk teenagers uphill in the dark wilderness is a terrible idea. My eyes are nearly taken out by stray tree branches, Marco almost twists his ankle, Sasha trips over a fallen log, and even Reiner runs smack dab in the middle of a tree. The thing is, everyone saw that tree aside from him, so I’m not sure what his excuse for that was.

The entire trek is painful, and I spend most of my time wondering if I’m going to throw up or if Marco is going to throw up on me; either way I was waiting for something unfortunate to happen, but it never did.

After a little while a massive cabin comes into view just off the road, obscured by tall oak trees and rocks that makes the scene look like it’s straight out of red riding hood. This is when the murderer pops out and kills all of the stupid college children, or in our case, rogue high school students.

Connie gestures to the building before scratching the back of his neck. “There are a bunch of bunk beds, but some people are gonna have to share.”

If I could even process how quickly Mina’s eyes went to Marco, I swear to God…

“I get Armin!”

We all turn to look at Eren in confusion. He lets out a nervous laugh before dragging Armin into the cabin with him.

Okay then?

As Mina opens her mouth, Marco leans harder on me.

“That means I get Jean.” He announces.

“Yes of course.” Ymir snickers with a roll of her eyes.

I take in Mina’s betrayed expression and lug the two of us into the cabin. It’s cool and smells like cinnamon for some reason, and it’s too dark for me to maneuver through it without bumping into things. We settle on the bunk with a clear path to the front door. Unfortunately, it’s the top bunk of Eren and Armin’s bed, but what can you do?

Sasha and Mina claim the bed across from us while everyone else gets a bed to themselves. I’m a little surprised that Sasha didn’t bunk with Thomas, but the idea slips out of my brain as my new challenge awaits me.

Getting Marco into the top bunk is no easy feat, and by the time I’m up there with him I want to sleep for an eternity. There’s not enough room to not cuddle, and Marco’s all up in my space as it is.

I close my eyes to try to sleep, but Marco thinks it’s chat time.

“Jean guess what?”

“What?” I groan back.

“Reiner’s birthmark is on his left butt cheek and it looks like a pear.” Marco snickers, a little too loudly, and I have cover his mouth to shut him up.

“How the fuck do you know that?”

“He showed us.” Marco wheezes next to me. I can’t help but laugh quietly at him.

“And guess what else?”

“What Marco?”

Marco stares at me for a few seconds before cracking up again.

“You smell like strawberries.”

I quirk an eyebrow. “Is that really what you wanted to say?”

Marco shakes his head against the pillow. “No…haha I forgot.”

We fall silent for a few minutes, but the sound of rustling underneath us makes me cringe.

Please tell me Armin and Eren aren’t…

Marco blinks at me.

“Do you hear that?” he whispers before laughing again. “It sounds like…macaroni.”

That makes me look at him funny. “Macaroni?”

“Someone’s making macaroni.”

The comment is too hilarious to not laugh at. I have to muffle my laugher with my arm; I’ve never heard such an accurate analogy to kissing before. The rustling beneath us eventually stops, but Marco’s little utterances continue.

I roll my eyes and let Marco ramble. He goes in between saying nonsense and things that aren’t words at all. I pat him a couple of times to let him know that I’m still listening despite laying there with my eyes closed.

He eventually slows down to just small murmurings, and he pulls me closer. It’s a little too warm for my liking, but I don’t move away. I’m too tired to bother anyway.

“Goodnight Marco.” I whisper.

“Night.” He murmurs back quietly.

The cabin falls into silence, and it’s so peaceful that it makes it easy for me to lull in and out of sleep. I want the spinning sensation to go away, but it lingers nonetheless as I sleep snuggled under the blankets with Marco.

 

 

I don’t know how long I’ve been asleep for, but I wake up again to Marco climbing out of the bed. The brief shake and creak of the bed makes me crack open an eye to see him walk out the dark cabin and into the night. I figure he’s probably going to take a piss or whatever, and shut my eyes again.

I find myself waiting, unable to go back to sleep, and Marco isn’t back yet. With a suppressed groan I climb out of the bed as quietly as I can, while still being drunker than I should be. I pad barefoot to the door and squeeze my way out into the cool air. Marco’s a few feet away from the door, leaning against the cabin with his eyes trained on the night sky.

“What are you doing?” I walk up to him. He slowly tears his gaze from the sky to me and gives me a sheepish smile.

“I thought I was going to throw up, so I came out here.”

“Did you?”

Marco shakes his head slowly. I can tell that he’s still wasted, and I’m glad that I woke up when he left. Knowing him, he’d end up standing out here for hours looking at the sky. The same thing almost happened to me.

“Come on, let’s go back to bed.” I hold out my hand to him.

“What if I puke on you?”

“I’ll forgive you.” I smile as Marco takes my hand. I lead him back inside and we climb back up into our bed. We lie facing each other, and just as I’m about to close my eyes Marco burps right into my face.

“Thank you for that.” I grumble while Marco laughs under his breath. He shuffles around a bit as he tries to get comfortable, and I can hear him move closer to me. He makes a little noise in the back of his throat that sounds like a whimper.

“We can cuddle.” I murmur in response and wiggle over until our legs tangle together, our bodies slotting together the way they always do.

Marco sighs in contentment, and I can feel his breath stir my hair as he nuzzles the side of my head. It’s warm, and its cozy; it lulls me back into a dreamless sleep, and I couldn’t be happier.

 

* * *

 

The morning sucks.

We’re awoken by Reiner shaking the frame of the bunk bed and Eren shouting for him to “fucking cut it out”.

Marco groans, bringing the pillow over his face in an attempt to either suffocate himself or block out the noise. I open my eyes to see that the world is still spinning. I close them again with a pained huff.

I can hear the cabin door opening and closing, along with the shuffling and angry grumbling of the others.

“We’re packing up to go, if you aren’t up we’re leaving without you and you get to live with the animals.” Reiner gives the bed one more shake for good measure before I hear him walk away.

“Dammit.” I slowly sit up and run a hand through my hair. My mouth tastes like old booze and chocolate, and there’s a cut on my arm that I don’t remember getting.

Marco props himself up and looks around the room. His hair curls up in the strangest ways possible, and he has lines on the side of his face from his pillow. I would laugh at him if my head didn’t feel like it was going to explode.

“Oh God.” He says quietly and leans over the railing.

“Marco don’t you dare!” I scramble to the edge and put a hand on his shoulder. I’m scared that he’s going to throw up on the hardwood floor and I’m going to have to be the one to clean it up.

He runs a shaky hand through his hair before giving me a sad look. He’s probably regretting the night before; I’m a little surprised he let himself get that drunk in the first place. It’s not enough to spark any suspicion or worry in me, at least for now. I can only help him climb out of the bed and follow everyone else out into the hot summer afternoon. The cicadas are practically screaming, and the heat isn’t doing good things to any of us. I keep an eye on Marco while we walk back towards the cars. Mina’s trying to convince him to ride back with them, but when he glances back and sees my expression, he politely turns her down. He’s playing Mr. Social as always, but I can tell that he isn’t doing too hot.

By the time we get to the cars, we’re all ready to go back to bed. Well, all of us except for Reiner. He’s full of energy and bumbling around the car, throwing water bottles at us and commanding us to rehydrate.

“Thanks Mom.” Connie grumbles as he barely catches his. We pile into the back of the jeep with our waters and watch as the other car packs up for the ride home. Marco sits by the window this time with a T-shirt over his head, blocking out his surroundings.

 

* * *

 

 

I’ve made a terrible mistake.

I should have just stayed at home and called it a Netflix day. I should have seen the trap I was walking into. Typical Jean just can’t say no!

“Oh Jean we didn’t go in here yet!” my mother squeals as she and Sheila drag me into another store, and I scream internally.

The upbeat techno doesn’t boost my mood as I’m pulled into the men’s section of the small store. The fans above only circulate the hot air rather than cooling it, and it whips my hair around my face–which by the way is steeled in my signature I-don’t-want-to-be-here expression. Sheila and Mom ignore that, and chat amongst each other as they hold up different articles of clothing to me.

“I think he looks really good in red.” Mom tilts her head as she compares my outfit with the one she’s holding.

“For sure, but a darker shade, not anything too obnoxious.” Sheila pins a darker shirt against my chest. I just stand there, taking the abuse, with my eyes trained on the mirror in front of me.

When did my eyes look so empty?

“I think we’re going to start buying more shorts.” Mom moves to shuffle through the next rack away from me, and I see it as an escape opening.

“Jean do you think Marco would like this?” Sheila holds up a simple polo that I don’t see anything special about it. It looks like one of the hundreds Marco has stashed in his drawers.

“Yeah, probably.” I try not to let my irritation leak into my voice.

Sheila scrunches up her nose and sighs.

“You’re just saying that.” She turns away from me to call out my mom, “Emma! What do you think? For Marco?”

My mom shakes her head from across the store.

“No! Marco needs more T-shirts and button ups!”

Sheila gasps. “You’re so right!”

With that, I back away from Sheila and step out of the store. Lucky me, there’s a bench a few steps away, so I drop into that and let out a heavy sigh.

I’ve been doing this for hours.

At first it wasn’t too bad; it was just like a typical mall trip, but without Marco. It being a Monday, he’s stuck at work, while I’m stuck with our moms. I should have known going to ‘hang out’ with them was a trap for shopping and public harassment. What lured me in was the mentioning of lunch, and it being nearly one o’clock makes me past the point of starving.

We’re too far into town for me to walk home, so I don’t have any other option but to sit here and wait for them to finish.

I glare into the store until, finally, they emerge with more bags and brighter smiles.

They pause when they see me sitting on the bench.

“Oh honey, we’re sorry!” Mom walks up to me and pats my head. “We’re done, promise.”

I grunt at that. She said that what, an hour ago?

“We know you just want to eat.” Sheila smiles at me before turning to walk down the sidewalk. She calls over her shoulder, “So come on, let’s go!”

I get up and follow the two down the street, unsure of where they plan on going. We get closer to the restaurant district before someone obstructs our path.

“Hey ladies!” a man around my mother’s age smiles down at them. I say he smiles down because the dude looks like he’s almost seven fucking feet tall. I stare at him in confusion and annoyance as I come to a stop between Mom and Sheila.

“Brett! Hi, how are you?” Mom’s voice changes. I don’t know what it is, but it seems to get…sweeter when she speaks to him and her posture suddenly gets straighter.

“How was your vacation?” Sheila chimes in.

“Oh man…the waves were crazy down there girls.” Brett runs a hand through his sun-bleached blonde hair and smiles an ultra-white smile. “I wish you two were there to share the experience with me!”

“Oh stop!” Mom giggles back.

As I listen to them talk to this man, I just stare at him to try and see what’s so great about the guy. Okay, he has nice hair and a muscular body, but his eyes are a pretty dull gray. His face isn’t that great and he’s too tall to be a human being. _So why was mom acting like he was her lifetime crush_?

I almost gasp aloud as the thought crosses my mind.

“Brett this is my son.” Mom reaches back without looking at me, and drags me forward to stand in front of him. I try not to let myself shrink underneath his gaze.

“Son?!” Brett nearly shouts, his eyes widening in shock. His smile nonetheless widens as he shakes my hand with enough force to break it. “Nice to meet ya kid!”

“Yeah.” I mutter back.

“My boy is working at the book store a few streets over.” Sheila pats my back. “But Jean counts as my second son.”

“You both have kids…wow I cannot believe that! You two look too young to have children!”

Sheila and Mom break into (toned down and sweeter) laughter while I fight the urge to throw up.

“Well, my lunch shift is just about over so I’m gonna have to catch you ladies later!” Brett winks at them before ducking back into the café he came from. My stomach growls in time and loud enough for Mom to hear it.

“Alright alright, I get it.” She says in an exasperated tone. As we walk away, I keep a curious gaze on her and try to figure out the expression on her face. It makes me wonder if she talks to men like that normally; the softer voice, the flattering looks…well, it makes Mom look…younger. I can’t remember the last time she acted like that around Dad, or if she ever had in front of me before. I’m not sure what to make of it and drop my gaze, along with the subject.

 

We end up at one of their favorite cafes at the end of the street. Mom chooses one of the tables on the terrace, and I choose a spot next to the fence so I can stare at the street instead of the other customers. I somewhat regret this decision since the fences are lined with flower pots…and flowers equals bees.

I pick up the menu and scan it; just to make sure there are hamburgers. It’s some fancy sounding one, but I’m too hungry to care.

“Is it just me or did Brett get taller?” Sheila asks my mom.

“No way, men don’t get taller at that age. He certainly got tanner though.” Mom says absentmindedly as she looks over the menu.

I tune them out as they talk about the world’s largest Ken doll. I scan my phone in hope that someone, anyone, has tried to contact me and hopefully save me from this hell. That’s just wishful thinking; I’m mentally cursing Marco for getting out of this, it makes me wonder if I should go and get a job.

“He’s probably bored because Marco isn’t here.” Mom’s comment brings me back to the conversation.

“What?” I notice that they’re both looking at me weird.

“You’re so cute.” Mom smiles at me in a doting way I probably would have appreciated when I was five.

“Mom!”

“So what’s the relationship status? Do either of you have crushes yet? Marco doesn’t tell me anything!” Sheila leans forward in excitement.

I let out a singular laugh. “Relationship status is nonexistent, nothing for you two to worry about.”

“There’s gotta be someone you’re interested in Jean! What about that girl you used to always talk about…what was it, Misaki?” Mom takes a sip of her water as she interrogates me.

I shake my head as quickly as possible.

“It’s Mikasa and no…no mom.”

“Why do you look so embarrassed?” she presses. “Really, there’s no one? No one at all?”

 I slump in my seat, wishing I could just melt out of the situation and spend my days as a puddle on the ground.

Why do mothers have to pry so much? And what does she care about my relationships for?

“Oh well.” Sheila sighs just as the waiter approaches. “I won’t ask any more questions.”

Mom pouts, but covers it up just as the waiter reaches our table. I can’t help but be grateful for the break; in all honesty I just want my hamburger.

The waiter takes our orders and I slouch further down into my seat. As I scroll through my phone I continuously look around to make sure I don’t see anyone from school; the last thing I want is a rumor about going on a date with two middle aged women.

Sheila occupies herself with ripping up pieces of napkins and balling them up to throw at me. I can tell she’s aiming for my hair; I swat away her attempts with a scowl. It’s no wonder where Marco gets his childish behavior from.

Mom is too busy trying to take the best selfie of her life for Instagram, and it makes me wonder who she’s trying to impress.

I bury my irritation in my burger when it arrives, biting into the juicy and savory heaven that I’ve been waiting so long for. Mom watches me with an amused expression as half of my burger falls out the bun and all over my plate; I can see the urge to wipe my face with her napkin like a reflection in her eyes. Sheila picks at her salad and watches her phone buzz against the table with a bored expression. She makes no move to pick it up and that earns Mom’s curious raise of her eyebrow. They share some telepathic conversation in front of me and it just leaves me as confused as ever.

“Eh.” My mom finally says aloud with a casual shrug. She doesn’t say anything else and Sheila just nods.

_You guys suck._

I shovel the rest of my burger into my mouth as I glare at them. I’m ready to go home and lay down on my comfortable bed in the comfortable air conditioning, but I need a trick to get us home.

I chew slowly as I think of a way to get us home faster.

“You know,” I grab their attention when I toss down my napkin, “Marco gets off in fifteen minutes, we should go and pick him up.”

“Oh really?” Sheila looks up in surprise. “He never told me his hours!”

“Sounds like a plan.” Mom rustles through her purse to grab her lipstick. God forbid her lips be a tint lighter than they normally are.

But it worked.

I want to cry with joy. I also can’t wait to see the look on Marco’s face when he sees us in the bookstore. Whatever it takes to get me out of here, right?

 

 

 

Marco makes the exact face I pictured in my mind on the ride to the bookstore. He pauses in the middle of the aisle with a box in his hands, his eyes locked on his mother with what could be interpreted as “why the fuck are you here right now?”

“Aw baby you look so professional!” Sheila doesn’t help her case as she approaches him. Luckily there are no coworkers in sight to witness anything, or so I think, but when I look over my shoulder I can see the same angry little man glaring at me from the encyclopedia section. I stare back at him, trying not to display the fear he was starting to stir in me. He continues to sweep without breaking eye contact and I’m starting to feel like he’s challenging me.

“Jean stop it.” Mom swats at my head when she sees what I’m doing. “If he kicks your ass I’m not helping you.”

“He started it!” I break eye contact to scowl at her. “He’s scary!”

“That’s Levi, he’s the boss around here.” Marco passes me to set the box down. He straightens up with a yawn, “you don’t want to start anything with him if you can’t finish it–”

“Oi Bodt.” The man himself appears behind Marco as if he materialized there. Marco jumps with a yelp and whips around to look (down) at him.

He’s so fucking short! I bite my tongue to stop myself from smirking.

“Yes sir?”

Levi’s steel grey gaze locks back on to me with an intensity I wasn’t getting from across the room.

“Your friend is giving me weird looks what’s wrong with him?”

“I’m sorry he looks at everyone that way, it’s his resting face.” Marco says it in a way that I know he isn’t kidding. I throw him an annoyed look; he isn’t even going to defend me.

Speaking of that…

I turn around to see that Mom and Sheila have completely abandoned us. Mom stands a few feet away, pretending to search the travel books as if she doesn’t know me.

“Well you need to fix your face, it feels like you’re picking a fight with me.” Levi steps closer and I take a brief step back.

“You started it!”

My remark makes Mom sigh and return to my side.

“I’m sorry my son is such a troublesome…” she trails off when she sees Levi’s face. She stares at him in a similar way to how she stares at the sale sign in stores, and Levi stares at her with an unamused expression.

“Are you okay?” he finally asks her. Mom struggles to find her words for a few seconds.

“I-It won’t happen again.” She smiles brightly and it makes Levi cringe away.

“Anyway Marco,” Levi turns his back to us to signal the end of our conversation, “good work today, you can go home.”

“Thank you, I’ll see you Wednesday.” Marco flees from the uncomfortable situation to go into the employee room. Levi walks away to return to the main counter and assist a customer.

“Mom what the hell was that?” I demand as soon as he’s out of hearing range. Her eyes are trained on Levi still, her lips slightly parted as if she were deep in thought.

“That short man is beautiful.” Sheila walks up to us and fans herself with a magazine. Mom only nods in agreement.

“Ugh that’s what you’re thinking about?” I smack myself on the forehead in hope that it’ll wake me up from this nightmare. It doesn’t, and I’m still standing in the middle of a bookstore with my mother drooling over a man that only comes up to her shoulders when she wears heels.

“I think I went to high school with him…he was beautiful back then too…” She seems to be overthinking it, considering the amount of wrinkles she’s getting in her forehead. “He was a bad boy…like a delinquent.”

“Ew.” I groan. “He didn’t recognize you, maybe you’re mistaken. Let’s go home?”

I don’t wait for her to answer. As I head to the front door, Marco emerges from the side door. I suppose we also have a form of unspoken language with the looks we give each other. Like for example, he’s giving me the “get the fuck out now before he kills you” look as we pass the main counter where Levi’s working.

“Have a terrible day.” He calls to me.

“Thanks I will.” I take it without a sarcastic response and push my way outside with Marco on my heels.

We have to wait a few minutes by the car until our moms come out.

“What an eventful day.” Sheila sighs before climbing into the driver’s seat.

“Quite the understatement.” I mutter under my breath. Only Marco hears me, and it makes him smirk as we climb into the backseat. We all drive home in comfortable silence until Mom turns to Sheila with a troubled look.

“I swear I went to school with him, why is he hot now of all times?”

I let out an annoyed groan and sink into my seat.

I should’ve just stayed my ass at home.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright sorry this is coming out so late….again it is all due to me being very stressed from school and also just not putting in the time to edit. But its fall break for me right now, and I finally was able to get to this chapter! I hope you all enjoyed it and thanks for reading!  
> ^^^^  
> don't worry we're not dead! Sosososososo sorry for the wait! On the plus side, I'm making this fic my priority for the next few months so I'll be focusing more on writing more chapters and sending them in! This chapter was hard for me to write because it's one of the chapters that exists to build the relationship structures for the rest of the story, so I hope it wasn't boring for you! I promise the next chapter will be up much, much faster than this one was!


	7. "What Are Your Symptoms?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean is up early for once. Due to a certain someone. But getting up for him is worth it, and Jean will always do anything to make his friend happy. Even if it means dealing with burnt hamburgers, his least favorite person, and pharmacies.

I wake up to the doorbell ringing.

At first, I believe it’s just part of my dream, but the sharp ring echoes through the house in its constant and annoying tune. I glare up at my ceiling for a few moments in angry confusion before tearing off my sheets and storming down the stairs.

I swear if this is a door-salesman I’m going to lose my shit.

Whoever dares to wake me up before ten a.m. on a Saturday, no less, better have a good fucking reason.

The doorbell rings at least fifty times before I throw open the door in anger.

“What the hell do you want?!” I nearly shout at the person in front of me.

“Wake up darling we have things to do.” I’m shocked when Marco pushes past me and into the house, kicking his shoes off as he goes. He tosses a bag onto the couch and drops into one of the recliners like he owns it. He gives me a hearty grin that doesn’t belong on his face at this hour.

I slowly shut the door behind me and step into the room to stare him down.

“You do realize it’s eight o’clock in the morning right?”

Marco is never awake at this hour. Even when we’re at school, he’s still knocked out at his desk until he can wake himself up. Yet here he is, showered and fully dressed, looking at me like I’m the weird one.

“The farmer’s market started today.” He says simply.

“You woke up early for the farmer’s market.” I repeat flatly and shake my head. I can feel my anger flicker out and I don’t have the energy to summon it back. I pass him and the couch and head back for the stairs. “I’m going back to bed.”

“You can try, but I’ll drag you out.” I hear Marco sing from the living room, and it echoes through the empty house like the threat it is. I roll my eyes and go into my room.

I don’t try to go back to bed like I say; I throw on a t-shirt and shorts before brushing my teeth. I examine my bed head in the mirror and decide against brushing it to save energy. I know Marco isn’t joking about dragging me out of bed considering he’s done it dozens of times and I still have bruises to prove it. I doubt I’d even be able to go back to sleep anyway. The sun’s too bright and I’ve already started using my brain…I screwed myself over the second I got out of bed.

 I shuffle back downstairs and find Marco leaning impatiently against the railing, clearly listening for my footsteps.

“When did you turn into a middle aged mother?” I sigh, mostly under my breath, but Marco hears me.

“My mom wears off on me okay?”

“Yeah yeah.” I slip on my shoes and pause at the front door when something dawns on me. “I have to drive there, don’t I?”

“Yup.” Marco puts on his shoes and leads the way to the back door with a smile while I glare at him and check to make sure I have my keys.

I feel like I’m still dreaming; I never got the time to just sit down and understand the universe after I woke up, which is something that I normally do in the mornings. Instead, I’m driving the six blocks to the stupid venue in a daze that probably isn’t good for my record. Marco makes sure that the music is loud enough to keep me awake, but what ends up annoying me the most is the amount of people and the lack of parking spaces.

Saturday is your chance to finally sleep in and you choose to wake up early for some fucking vegetables?

Unbelievable.

I zip into a spot and nearly crash into the tree in front of us; my side-eye dares Marco to say anything about it.

Tents and stands are scattered across the park full of people I really don’t want to put up with.

“I’ll be fast I promise.” Marco knows what I’m thinking. I grunt at that and turn the car off with an annoyed flick of my wrist.

I follow him through the lot, twisting and turning while avoiding strollers and old people to get to one of the larger tents. I stop to examine some potatoes at one of the tables while Marco goes straight up to the people working at the checkout. The young man working there seems to know him, and he hugs Marco from across the table before they launch into an enthusiastic conversation.

I’m not surprised. Marco loves the farmer’s market; he’s forced me to come here for the past three years with him just so he can socialize with the people. Of course, I’ve never gone this early with him before. Maybe his mom started the habit, considering Sheila was such an early bird.

I’m moving around the tent, pretending to be interested in the produce, when an older woman tries to explain the amazing quality of their radishes. Unable to escape, I put on my friendly smile and nod at her process of crop-caring.

Marco better make this fast.

I have to admit that I’m glad we came though. Watching Marco socialize with all of these different people is really amusing. The way he lights up in conversation with them, and how they pull him around their stands explaining their merchandise, it’s…amazing. I feel like a proud mother watching her son spread his wings before leaving the nest. To be fair, Marco has always been the social one out of the two of us, so I’m not sure why it makes me a little uneasy. It’s like he’s spreading his wings…but I don’t want them to spread too far.

I direct my scowl at a crate of cherries, hoping that the other shoppers think I’m just examining the options.

I wonder where my possessiveness comes from. Normally I don’t care who Marco associates with since he’s always around me in the end, but if his social circle grows what does that mean for me? Anti-social Jean who hangs out with the same people as elementary and middle school can only make it so far in life like this right?

How did Marco meet all of these people? He somehow made these connections on his own, and he maintains relationships so easily simply because of who he is as a person. People like Marco make me jealous; if it were that easy to start a conversation my life would be so much easier!

I can’t really blame myself for my small circle of friends though. I’m sure a lot of people have some sort of social anxiety holding them back…and I don’t feel pressured to expand my circle anyway.

Instead of standing around looking like I’m bored and waiting for him to finish, I end up buying a carton of raspberries and wander the venue eating them. I try my best to avoid familiar faces from school along with my mother’s friends, and by the time I make a full circle, Marco’s buying something else he probably doesn’t need.

“You do not need that much corn.” I sneak up behind him in line, causing him to jump in surprise.

“There’s never enough corn.” Marco smiles back and hands me the bag to hold so he can pay the girl at the counter. I could see her flirting from a mile away, and when her hand lingers on Marco’s as she hands him his change it makes me wonder just how dense Marco can possibly be. The poor guy skips all of the hints and leaves the line, and the only thing I can do is give the girl an apologetic smile before turning to follow him.

“Oh Marco…” I sigh and shake my head.

He slows and turns back to look at me. When we’re finally side by side he quirks a brow at my tone.

“What did I do?”

“That girl was obviously checking you out.” I adjust the bag so I can keep eating my raspberries. They’re a lot more bitter than I remember them being.

“Me?” He points at himself in confusion, as if this hasn’t been painfully obvious.

“Yes genius, you.”

“How am I supposed to know that?” he scoffs and returns his gaze to the stands as we make a final circle around the park.

“Well…you normally read the hints.”

“Hints?” he doesn’t sound that interested in what I’m talking about, but I humor him anyway.

“You know, how often they hold eye contact, the tone of voice, the amount of time they talk to you about pointless things especially when you’re holding up a line, and not to mention the prolonged contact when she returned your money…” I raise my voice at the end to bring his attention back to what I’m saying. His lack of response makes me throw a hand up in frustration. “Jesus Marco do you need the gods to spell it out in the clouds for you?”

Marco blows out a gust of air through his nose before looking at me.

“Clearly.” He grins, but it doesn’t feel authentic.

That’s a sign for me to drop the subject I guess.

“Is there anything else you want to get? This is pretty heavy as it is though…”

Marco pauses by the gated entrance and casts a quick gaze over his shoulder. “Nah, I think I got everything.”

Thank God.

We make the trek back to the car and I hand him his bag so I can unlock the car doors. I still can’t figure out if I’ve pissed him off; it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve upset him by questioning his ability to pick up clues with girls. It’s not like I’m that talented at it either, I mean…my resting bitch face can only get me so far.

“May I ask what you plan on doing with all of that food?”

“Barbeque.” Marco says simply and gives me a devious smile. “We’re gonna cook today.”

I snort at that.

“Oh really?” I muse as I pull out of the lot and head home. “Do you even know how to use a grill?”

“It’s common sense, we’ll be fine.”

 

 

 

So he said.

I watch Marco examine the charcoal bag with a puzzled expression while I sit at the patio table. I poke at the soaking ears of corn in their little bowl of water as I wait for him to give up on this tiresome dream.

I think he figures it out, because he makes his move to line the bottom of the grill with charcoal and sprays a heavy amount of lighter fluid on it.

“Hey are you sure that’s okay?” I call out warily.

“Yeah I think that’s enough!” he lights the fire and it suddenly engulfs in a massive flame. He jumps back in time to save his eyebrows. “Too much fluid!”

I drop my head into my hands with a tired sigh. Marco was going to get us killed.

Marco watches the flames with a somewhat terrified expression before he comes over to the table to grab the plate of burgers.

“I have no idea what I’m doing.” He mumbles to me and turns away.

As scared as I am of fire, I try to humor him and get up to stand by his side with the spatula in hand. I scoop the burgers off the plate and plop them onto the grill where they make a satisfying hissing sound at contact. Neither of us know how long these have to cook or when we’re supposed to flip them.

“I think grilling was a terrible mistake.” I sigh.

“Everyone learns from mistakes.”

I roll my eyes at his teacher-like disposition and poke at the raw meat in boredom. I jump back with an unattractive shriek when a flame rises a little too close to my exposed hand.

Just because it’s a fairly nice day out, it doesn’t mean that we have to spend it outside. Yet here I am risking my life and limbs to light some things on fire in Marco’s backyard. At least the guy’s back to his chipper self, to the point where his appetite clearly overpowers his survival instincts.

We spend the next hour pacing the yard, flipping and saving burgers, and searing corn while trying to avoid receiving third degree burns from this death machine people call a grill. It’s absolutely terrifying that people use this, and I hope I never have to operate one again in my lifetime; Marco on the other hand, seems to be having the time of his life.

“This one turned out perfect!” He shows me the perfectly cooked inside of his (third) burger with a triumphant smile and I beam back at him.

“Is that the only one we didn’t burn?”

“Yeah…no, wait I think there’s another somewhere…” He examines the plate of burgers as he eats the one in his hand, dropping condiments on the glass table as he did so.

I fight my inner motherly urges to tell him to stop making a mess and take a nice bite out of my corn.

Time was moving by pretty quickly today. Although it was still early in the afternoon, it felt as though I had just woken up and rolled out of bed. To be fair, that is exactly what I did, but it was already eleven a.m. and now we’re eating burnt food and pretending it tasted amazing. I feel like a magazine model for a summer catalog.

Marco would fit in just fine, especially with the ketchup smeared across his face and his hair tossed around his head from the wind…man if the girls from school saw him like this they’d probably be horrified.

That makes me laugh aloud, and I nearly choke on my mouthful of corn.

“What’s so funny?” Marco narrows his eyes in suspicion, as if he knows that I’m laughing at him.

“Oh, nothing.”

“ _Jean_.” Marco drops his deconstructed burger onto his plate and pouts. “You can’t do that.”

“I’m laughing because you always manage to get food on your face.” I smirk and bite into my corn again. He glares at me and I wiggle my eyebrows at him in return.

“Where?” He touches his cheek absentmindedly and leaves a streak of ketchup. “Oh.”

“You big baby.” I groan and put down my corn. I grab a napkin and reach across the table to wipe away his mistakes. “There there, Mom will clean you up.”

“I can do it myself!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Marco sits still with a seemingly permanent scowl on his face until I finish, and I lean back into my seat with a satisfied smile.

“Today feels like a horror movie day.” I toss the napkin onto my plate and stretch. “It’s too bright and cheery today.”

Marco gives me a tired look before reaching for his own napkin. “Every day feels like a horror movie day to you, Jean.”

“I’m thinking Halloween and Nightmare on Elm Street.”

“I’m thinking no thanks.”

I get up with my plate and glance at the grill. We covered it in an attempt to suffocate the flame, but tendrils of smoke were still leaking out of the sides, was that normal? “You don’t have a choice.”

I walk into the house without Marco and scrape my plate in the garbage can before setting it in the dishwasher.

Even though most of what I ate tasted like straight up burnt ashes, I can admit that our brunch was strangely satisfying. I was stuffed after only two burgers and an ear of corn while Marco nearly ate double of that. The guy’s a monster; he just keeps eating and growing bigger, and my biggest fear is that he’s going to turn into Bertholdt or Reiner.

Marco comes in through the sliding doors with his own finished plate and does the same as me. He locks the back door and follows me into the living room where I crash on my favorite spot on the couch (far right seat closest to the front entryway), kick off my shoes, and put my feet up on the ottoman. Marco hesitates near his side of the couch before giving in and sitting with a defeated sigh.

With full control of the remote, I make Marco suffer through the eerie Halloween theme song music with a wicked smile in place. I jump up and pull the curtains shut on every window in sight, making the room dark and mysterious, just the way it should be.

“Oh god.” Marco grabs one of the blankets and pulls it over himself like some kind of shield.

Of course, we’ve both seen this film before, but Marco’s a sucker for jump-scares and every time he reacts it startles me into reacting, which makes it even funnier to watch.

“Don’t go in there!” Marco draws the blanket over his eyes before he can see the murder scene. He knows his warnings to the characters are futile, but he does it anyway.

Halfway through the movie, I stretch out on the couch with my head resting on Marco’s thigh. I realize this is a huge mistake because his legs bounce when he’s nervous, and it feels like my head is vibrating through the rest of the film. As expected, I’m too lazy to move again so I just endure it, allowing myself to jolt with his body movements every time the killer pops out with his signature mask.

 

 

“Since we’re watching masked horror flicks,” I exit out of the movie as soon as the credits start playing, “I think Friday the 13th would be a good choice for the next one.”

“I hate Jason…” Marco buries himself in the blankets again and periodically looks over it to watch the movie. I spend most of my time watching Marco rather than watching the movie; his reactions are priceless whenever something crazy or gruesome happens, and I love to see that expectant, horrified look on his face when he knows something bad is going to happen. I think I might be a sadist, but even though Marco acts as if he hates horror movies, I know that he likes them. Even though he’s kind of afraid of the dark and easily startled, we’ve been watching these movies together for as long as I can remember.

Near the end of the movie I feel Marco’s phone buzz in his pocket. I watch him pull it out and squint at the bright screen. He cocks his head a little to side and unlocks it with curiosity.

“Who is it?” I roll over onto my back and stare up at him.

He doesn’t answer me right away. His eyes scan across the screen, reading whatever’s there before he looks down at me with an unrecognizable expression.

“How do you feel about going over to Eren’s in a little bit?”

“Ew.” My face automatically scrunches up at the idea of seeing Eren. I don’t believe I’ve ever been to his house before, and I consider that a good habit. “Why would we do that?”

“He’s having everyone over to hang out for a little while, it sounds fun.”

I close my eyes with a grunt. I feel something cool touch my forehead; I think he put his phone on me instead of back into his pocket.

“Is this a party?”

“No.” Marco replies. “His mom is home, he said it’s just a casual thing.”

“Lame.” I huff back.

Marco taps on his phone, which goes through to my forehead in quick irritating pokes.

“Let’s go Jean.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Please?” I crack an eye open at his pleading, but turn my head away quickly.

“Nuh uh.”

Suddenly, Marco’s voice is impossibly close to my face.

“I’ll love you forever if we go.”

I stare up into the warm amber abyss of his eyes with a curious look. In the dark, all of his features somehow look enhanced; the dark framing of his eyelashes, his tousled hair and freckles stand out more than usual. Staring at him this close makes me squirm a little, it reminds me of that dream, where everything was real but not real in some sort of alternate reality. It had to come from somewhere in my subconscious, and I wonder if it’s sights like this that I normally don’t take notice of. I see Marco nearly every day, so sometimes I don’t pay attention to the details as much as I probably should.

Wait, why do I feel guilty about that?

Marco’s waiting for my answer, his lips slightly parted as if he planned on saying something else. I focus on the soft texture of them, hovering over my face, and I can feel my expression turn pained.

“You already do.” I smirk to cover it up, and relish in the way he rolls his eyes into the back of his head.

“Okay, well still.” He cocks his head to the side again like a puppy. “Let’s go!”

I stare at him for a few more seconds before sitting up with an angry groan. His phone falls onto my lap with a thud.

“Fine Marco, fine. We’ll go, are you happy?”

“Yes, I’m so happy.” He stands up and takes his phone with a smile. I assume he’s texting Eren that we’re on our way when he grabs his shoes and disappears into the kitchen.

Ugh I really don’t want to put up with Eren tonight, but I figure if the others are there it won’t be so bad. However, Eren’s house was his own turf, did that mean I had to be nice to him?

Like hell I would.

I sulk as I slide back into my shoes and step into the kitchen to see Marco leaning on the counter, texting at nearly a million words per minute. I never understand how he can text that fast and make little to no mistakes. Maybe he isn’t human after all.

“Let’s get this over with.” I call over my shoulder and walk out into the cool evening air.

“Don’t be like that.” He hums back, shutting the door behind him.

I bite back a ‘whatever’ and we climb into the car. This is the second time today he’s dragging me out against my will and he better stop making it a habit.

Next stop, my own personal hell.

* * *

 

 

I can admit that Eren has a nice house.

That does not mean that I’m complimenting him in any way.

It’s ridiculously big like most of the houses in Trost, and it’s well-decorated and pristine like they expected someone to take photos of it. With Eren’s dad being a doctor I’m not surprised that they’re well-off, but this kind of an upbringing is begging to turn their son into a snobby asshole. I do my best not to touch anything, despite my urge to smash everything in sight for a chance to piss Eren off.

I sit on the carpet next to Sasha while we plow through another TV series that no one is actually paying attention to. Bert and Reiner are surprisingly distant from one another tonight, we’ve been here for almost an hour now and I’ve only seen them speak to each other twice.

Even though it’s a casual hangout, things don’t feel quite right and I’m not sure how to explain it. Everything feels too mellow and quiet, like the lack of people sucked some of the energy from the room.

Thomas didn’t end up coming with Sasha, which I think has calmed Connie down a little, but he still watches her from his spot on the couch with a look I don’t recognize.

Sasha leans against me while she sips her drink with a bored expression, all the while ignoring Connie’s gaze. Although we all had cups of lemonade and juice, what Eren’s overprotective mom didn’t know was that Reiner had spiked everyone’s drink with vodka with the little flask he kept in his pocket. I watched him do it from the corner of my eye and I’m still feigning ignorance.

Knowing this, I’m avoiding all drinks thrown my way, but I keep an eye on Marco. I don’t think he knows, and I’m too lazy to tell him, but I’m sure he’ll pick up on it soon enough.

Marco finally takes a sip of his drink and makes a disgusted face at it. As if he thought he was mistaken, he takes another sip, and then he throws Reiner a lethal glare.

There he goes.

He sets down his drink and goes back to his conversation with Connie and Eren like nothing happened. I find myself distracted by Mikasa talking with Reiner and Bert, sandwiched in the middle of their broken conversation, yet somehow keeping them connected through her. I think she picked up on the strange atmosphere between the usually happy and cuddly couple too, and was trying her best to help the situation.

Sometimes I forgot that she and Eren lived together. They weren’t biological siblings; Mikasa was adopted into the family when her parents died, and ever since then she and Eren lived together as a family. It seemed like things were a little more complicated with them than that, but it wasn’t any of my business to pry. She looked somewhat happy, but then again Mikasa was good at hiding her emotions, and I was never close enough to her to ask.

I sighed. Why couldn’t I be better with girls?

Sasha lightly bumps me and gives me a humored sneer.

“Still got your eyes on Mikasa, huh Jeanbo.”

“No I don’t.” I say back, a little too quickly because it only fuels her smile.

“It’s okay, she’s gorgeous so I don’t blame you.” She gives her drink a little shake and wiggles her eyebrows at me.

I don’t have a comeback for that so I just sit with my eyes trained on the TV.

Mikasa was definitely beautiful, but she was also someone way out of my reach. I gave up on that idea a long time ago Sasha.

I hope I don’t display as much of a pitiful face as I picture myself making.

“Eren darling!” Eren’s mom calls from the kitchen. It causes an onslaught of Reiner and Connie quietly mimicking ‘darling’ when he passes by, which earns them a death glare in their direction.

“What is it?” he asks and disappears in the kitchen. Mikasa watches after him with a torn expression, most likely wondering whether or not she should follow.

When I turn back, I notice that Sasha’s staring at me.

“What?” I ask her, my hand already reaching for my face. “Is there something on me?”

She blinks before giving me a cheesy smile. “Nope, I was just zoning out.”

“Oh.” _Is she drunk?_

The hang out finally starts to pick up a pace when Eren returns with a few games and a tray full of cookies. He, Mikasa, and Reiner lead the group with a competitive round of Just Dance while I take refuge behind the couch and watch. Everyone’s pretty dispersed around the living room, which feels a lot more comfortable than when all of us were sitting in front of the TV not doing anything.

Sasha remains at my side, watching Connie try to wrestle the remote from Eren with an amused expression. She holds her cup close to her chest like it’s her child, and in most cases I’m sure she treats her cup better than she would with a real kid.

Marco appears on the other side, his cup abandoned and surprisingly, a frown rests on his face.

“Sasha, don’t you think you should be teaming up with Connie?” he suddenly asks her. Sasha looks over at him briefly before looking away.

“I don’t really want to play…”

“Oh? Are you sure? It doesn’t seem that way to me.” Something in the tone of his voice makes Sasha squeeze her cup tightly and harden her gaze. I measure the atmosphere between the two of them, which I’m trapped in, and I don’t like it. It doesn’t feel right, but it’s not like Marco to make the mood weird, so I don’t know what to say.

“Nope.” She says resolutely.

“You’re always so indecisive.” Marco continues. “You know you’re sending him mixed messages, right?”

I realize that the emotion I couldn’t place in his voice was irritation. What was he trying to say to her? It was clear that Sasha didn’t like whatever it was, and I notice how she slowly inches away from me and Marco.

“He sends them to me too, I’m not the only one!”

“It’s not just with Connie, Sasha.” I’m shocked at how cold Marco’s voice is. He raises his eyebrows and locks a steel gaze on her. “Do you get what I’m saying?”

“Marco, cut it out! What are you talking about?” I can’t contain my own irritation any longer and turn to glare at him. Why was he acting like this? Was he drunk? No, he wasn’t drinking much of anything, so that can’t be it…

“I’m just wondering.” He still has his eyes on Sasha. He doesn’t seem to be in a good mood anymore, and his eyes reflect the part of him I still haven’t completely seen. The dark and dangerous Marco that snaps when he’s pushed too far. That’s not something I want to see anytime soon, but it looks like it’s starting to make its appearance.

To be completely honest, that part of Marco terrifies me.

He’s the happy go-lucky guy who’s always nice and kind, but seeing him genuinely angry takes a lot to accomplish, and it’s almost the complete opposite of his usual personality.

What did Sasha do to make him this angry?

I still feel the need to protect her, she doesn’t know how Marco can get sometimes, and those moments can be scary as hell.

“It’s okay Jean.” Sasha says quietly. She gives Marco a slightly annoyed look before turning away. “I understand Marco.”

We watch her go join Connie with a forced smile. Reiner hands her his remote and drops back onto the sofa next to Bert, but he keeps the same distance as before.

“What the hell was that Marco? You almost made her cry!” I turn around to glare at him.

Marco’s eyes slide back to mine almost lazily.

“I’m just stirring the pot Jean.”

“What?” I ask a little sharply.

Marco smiles at my attitude, but it looks sad.

“Do you think she’s happy with Thomas?”

I glance at Sasha again. Even though she looks stressed, Connie is able to make her laugh in just a few minutes. It’s a genuine laugh, and it makes her eyes light up in the way I recognize. I’ve never seen her do that with Thomas.

My grip on the couch spine tightens until my knuckles turn bone-white.

“…no.” I say slowly.

“Me either.”

I look back at Marco and narrow my eyes.

Marco and Sasha had a complicated relationship as well. I still wasn’t sure if they got along or not, and considering we’ve all been friends for almost eight or nine years, that’s pretty concerning. Marco’s the type of social sweetheart who could get along with anyone, but recently he doesn’t seem to care for her all that much. I’m not saying that’s a bad thing, I mean it’s kind of expected since he’s so close to Thomas anyway.

“I think you scared her.”

Marco shrugged. “I didn’t mean to.”

I let out a heavy sigh.

“Do you wanna just go home? There’s nothing else to do here.”

Marco measures my expression before answering. I think he’s gauging my mood: cranky, irritated, slightly hungry, and tired.

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.”

_Let’s go before you throttle someone_.

I want to say it, but I don’t. I’ve never seen Marco get angry enough to hit someone, but I wonder what would happen if he did. I can’t even picture him doing it.

But then again, there’s an entire Marco that I don’t know.

A Marco that was born the day his father died; his manifestation of grief, anger, and other emotions he never displayed in front of others. Even with me it was rare.

I feel a little left out since I want to know everything about the guy, but these things take time.

I give Marco a hearty pat on the back.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

 

 

We get home a little before ten at night, returning to an empty house. Our moms have abandoned us yet again on another trip, which isn’t surprising in the least, so I end up coming home with Marco and trudging up the stairs to his room. I don’t bother on eating; I’ll just have a big breakfast in the morning.

Marco and I don’t really talk tonight, we just curl up on the bed and fall asleep in comfortable silence, the sound of the air conditioning in his room quickly puts me to sleep.

* * *

 

 

I wake up next to a furnace.

I wish I was exaggerating, but I have to throw off the comforter and shrug out of my sweat soaked shirt because the boy next to me feels like he’s on fire.

 The blankets surrounding us feel as though they’d been roasting in the sun, despite the cool air that circulates the bedroom. The faint sunlight filters through his blinds, signaling the early morning and it makes me question why the hell I’m awake.

I’m up because I think Marco’s dying.

“Hey!” I shake him lightly and he ends up rolling onto his back. His shirt is wet too, and when I push his hair back from his forehead his skin is burning.

He’s got a fever.

A really bad one at that, and it makes me scramble out of bed and downstairs to find ice and a bottle of cold water.

When I return, he hasn’t moved. I keep trying to wake him up in the gentlest ways I know, and he finally opens his eyes to look at me.

“Dude you’re burning up.” I tell him and hold up the bottle of water. “Sit up and drink.”

Marco looks at me as if I’ve made an impossible request, but obeys me slowly. He’s sluggish from sleep I assume, and I’m internally freaking out because I don’t know how to care for sick people.

I struggle to recall the things Mom did for me when I got sick. I remember she’d take my temperature, and then I’d fall asleep again, but then what? I think she brought me food from time to time and I know I took medicine…fuck it’s so much different when the roles are switched!

“Thanks.” His voice is rough from waking up and it gives me goosebumps.

No wait, that’s from the cold blast of the air conditioning. Do I turn that off if he’s sick? Or is it a good thing to keep on for him?

“I don’t even need to take your temperature to tell you that you’re sick.”

“I’m fine, I’ll just sleep.” He hands me the half-finished bottle and lies back down.

“You are not fine.” I hiss back. Medicine. He needs medicine. Wait, he needs food first. I mean, I think?

“Do you have medicine somewhere?” I feel stupid for asking. I normally know where everything is.

“Probably.” He mumbles.

_Thanks Marco_.

First I try his adjoining bathroom for clues. I search the cabinets, finding nothing other than extra toilet paper, shaving supplies, soap, aspirin, and towels. With a frustrated grumble, I try the second bathroom on the floor and ransack every corner of it in hopes that I’ll find _something_ to help Marco out.

Geez I know Marco never gets sick, but come on Sheila you’re always prepared!

My last chance is the bathroom downstairs, and even that leads to dead end. If there was nothing in the house, there was only one thing left to do.

I begin my search for the cure to save my best friend.

* * *

 

 

 

I stumble into the pharmacy slightly out of breath, a little sweaty, and exhausted. I can feel the few customers in the store watching me curiously as I wander up and down the aisles looking for something, anything, that could be of help to Marco. When I scan the different brands of medication, all of the words start to blur together until nothing makes sense anymore.

A woman in white examines the shelves a few feet away from me; I think she’s one of the pharmacists working here. I scowl at the boxes while I decide whether or not to ask for her help. I think I can figure it out on my own, I mean…how complicated can it be? All I need is a fever reducer and…and what else?

“Did you need help with anything?”

I turn in surprise when the woman approaches me with a friendly smile. I assume she saw the terror form on my face when I realized how ignorant I really am at taking care of myself. Mom has always bought medicine and snacks for me when I was sick, and I never had to worry about Marco being sick before…but now that the time has come I’m completely useless.

“I-I uh…” I swallow my shame and nod my head. “Yeah I do.”

“Sure! What are you looking for?” she moves to stand by my side and eyes the products I’ve been staring at for the past ten minutes. “Fever reducers?”

“Yeah my friend suddenly came down with a really bad fever and I need to get it down as soon as possible…”

“Do they have any other symptoms? Like coughing, sore throat, running nose, or anything like that?”

“I don’t think so…he might have a sore throat? Nothing obvious.”

“Then I’d suggest this one.” She hands me a blue box and flips it over in my hands to point out the details. “It’s a fever reducer and targets coughing and throat irritation, but just so you know it can make him drowsy.”

“That’s okay.” I tell her. “Thank you.”

“Also make sure he’s taking in plenty of fluids, staying off his feet, and keep him warm. It’s better to sweat out a fever than anything else, so warm fluids like soup and tea are important.”

I try to make a mental note of everything this woman tells me as she leads me back towards the cash register. Her fever-knowledge rolls off of her tongue like it’s been imbedded into her brain since birth; she makes everything sound like common sense, and I’m sure most of it is, but an idiot like me wouldn’t know that!

I thank her before I leave, and hold the bag tightly as I jog back into the humid air and over to my car.

 

 

When I get back, Marco’s still sleeping, but now I know what I have to do.

I turn off the air conditioner before going back downstairs to heat up a bowl of chicken noodle soup in the microwave.

_I can manage at least this much…_

The return to Marco’s room is a little difficult; balancing soup and crackers on a tray tends to not be my forte, and once I enter his room it feels like I’ve stepped into the seventh circle of hell.

“Marco wake up!”

It takes me a while to rouse him out of his slumber and get him to sit up. It takes even longer to get him to eat the soup I’ve put in front of him.

While he eats, I open up the box of medicine and check the dosage before popping out two decent sized pills into my palm. The cool blue gel texture makes it look like candy; thank God she didn’t recommend that nasty syrup shit because there was no way Marco would even look at that. Hell, even I’d rather die from whatever sickness I had then have to put it anywhere near my mouth.

“Where did you get those?” I look up to see Marco watching me. He has the spoon hanging out of his mouth while he holds his phone in his left hand. I reach over to push back the sweaty hair on his forehead and his eyes close at the contact. It’s ridiculous how hot his skin is.

“I went to the store and bought them.” I murmur back and pick up a bottle of water. “My name is Jean and I’m going to be your nurse today. If you follow my directions I can guarantee that you’ll make a speedy recovery Mr. Bodt.”

Marco raises an eyebrow and sets down his spoon. “Well it looks like I’m going to die tonight.”

“Shut up!” I punch him in the arm and he lets out a quiet laugh. I frown when I see he’s only eaten half of his soup. “Marco, finish it.”

“I’m sorry…” he casts his gaze down and looks a little sheepish. “I really can’t.”

Marco can’t finish his food?

I’ve lived to see such a day, and it honestly worries me. The guy can eat anything and everything, which means he must not be feeling too hot if he can’t finish a small bowl of soup.

“It’s okay.” I pat him lightly on the back and then hand him the pills. “Take these.”

He follows my orders, chasing down the pills with a few gulps of water. I hand him a fresh t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants to change into, and ultimately end up having to wrestle the clothes off of him myself.

“Can I please shower?” he whines as I peel his wet t-shirt off of him. I shake my head as I push the new one over his head.

“No, you gotta sweat this one out.”

I try not to feel embarrassed when I pull off his shorts. Marco seems to be too out of it to really care, or understand, what I’m doing; he just watches me with a tired expression. Once I get his sweatpants on, I push him back onto his bed and press a frozen water bottle against his neck. He flinches away from it, but gradually relaxes as I hold it there.

Marco lets out a long, content sigh. “Thanks…hey Jean?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t tell Mom.” Marco shuts his eyes and presses a hand to his forehead. “She doesn’t have to know.”

“I won’t.” I know exactly what he means. The second Sheila found out Marco was sick, she’d hightail herself back home faster than lightning could strike, and my mom would be right at her heels. Marco just didn’t want to make a big deal out of nothing, nor risk the chance of cutting our possibly last “empty-house opportunity” of the summer short.

As I’m about to take the tray and leave, Marco’s hand snaps up to grab my wrist. I look over my shoulder to see him watching me with a sad expression.

“Will you stay…?” his voice is impossibly soft and fragile, like he already expects the answer to be no. “Just a little longer…”

I smile back at him and set the tray on his desk. I can’t just ignore a sick person’s request like that, and he looks so abandoned that it kind of breaks my heart.

“I’ll stay as long as you need me to.” I sit beside him on the bed and wrap him in blankets. He lets me, nuzzles against his pillows, and takes a strong hold of my hand while he falls asleep. I use my free hand to run my fingers through his messy hair, enjoying the curls that have sprung up in the strangest places on his scalp.

Even after he falls asleep, his grip doesn’t loosen on my hand, so I end up staying a while just watching him sleep in silence. If I’m not on my phone, I’m making sure he’s still breathing that same steady rhythm as always.

After an hour or two he starts to move in his sleep.

At first it was just small twitches, which I’m used to, and he let out little whines when the heat starts to get to his head. I refuse to let him wiggle out of the sheets, pinning him down so he can get rid of this persistent fever and get better. But then his movements start to get stronger.

Fever dreams? Is that what the websites called it?

I hope that’s not what this is, but as time goes on, I become more and more convinced.

I think it’s a nightmare, but then again, I’m not sure. He lets out a few groans as he tries again to kick out of his sheets, and his grip tightens when I shift a little too far from my usual spot. His breathing changes a little; it picks up the pace ever so slightly, so I plant my hand on his forehead again to see how he’s feeling.

It’s a lot cooler than it was before.

That makes me breathe out a sigh of relief and return the pressure Marco’s putting on my hand. His eyebrows knit together into a scowl and he mumbles something incoherent under his breath.

“What are you dreaming about?” I whisper, and my hand finds its way trailing down alongside his jaw. I can feel the small prickles indicating the signs of stubble and it makes me wonder what Marco would look like if he didn’t shave. It makes me shudder and I push that thought as far from my mind as I can.

His skin is softer than mine, and despite the sheen of sweat that covers it, its flawless. Normally, teenagers would be getting acne or razor cuts or something, but this guy…his face is smooth and tan, splattered with freckles that cup his cheekbones and jawline perfectly. I wish I could tell him how beautiful he is, but I feel like that would be kind of weird to say out of the blue. I’m sure he knows, but every day I continue to be amazed by him. I hate seeing him sick like this, and I really want to be the one who makes him feel better because I owe him at least that much.

“…Jean.”

I look down expectantly when I hear my name muttered, but Marco appears to be completely asleep. I cock my head a little to the side when he lets out a quiet moan. In curiosity, I stroke the side of his face a bit harder than I had before to see if he feels it; normally he’d slap my hand away and roll over in his sleep, but this time he snuggles closer to me with a content smile.

Whatever Marco was dreaming about, it sounded dirty. Which meant it was my cue to leave before I heard sides of him that I’d never witnessed before. I slowly slide my hand out of his and get up, gathering the tray in my arms before hesitating at the doorway.

So I said, but I feel bad for leaving…and my nosiness always gets the best of me in times like this. As I take a step back in Marco lets out a low whimper that makes me freeze in my tracks.

I can hear my heartbeat in my ears. It’s not strong and panicked like I’m used to it being, but it’s the only sound in the room other than Marco’s breathing. I don’t understand why my pulse is speeding up, maybe because I’m expecting something?

When I was sleeping with Marco that time, was I making these noises?

I know I did at the end, but…just the thought of it is so embarrassing I could die! Yet I’m standing here, watching his dreams unfold in front of me all because I can’t get enough of the expression he’s making. A mixture of pain and concern, or maybe desperation, all conveyed while unconscious…what was going on in his head?

No that’s not fair. That’s none of my business.

I turn on my heels and walk out of his room without looking back.

I’ll check on him in the next hour and see how he’s doing, but I’m not going to spy on him any longer. He needed his full rest if he ever wanted to get better, and that was my main priority. I was going to push away my urge to return to that room until absolutely necessary to make sure he was okay.

And I wasn’t going to overthink anything.

 

I think I end up falling asleep once I get downstairs. I say that because the next thing I know, I’m lifting my head from my arms and looking around a dark kitchen. I had sat down at the counter to scroll through my phone for a while, but that was the last thing I remembered, and that was almost six hours ago. I must have been more tired than I thought I was, running around and worrying about Marco all day.

I scoot away from the counter with a yawn and make my way back upstairs to check on him. When I step into his room and walk up to his bed, I let out a tired sigh.

Marco had abandoned his shirt, managed to tangle himself into the sheets, and had a leg hanging off the bed. It looked as if he had tried to get up but gave up halfway through before going back to sleep again. The boy was a mess, but I guess he was my mess in this situation.

I slowly lean forward and check his temperature again. It’s still warm, but it’s not something that I’m worried about anymore. He’s still sweating a shit ton, but that was good. We were making progress. I decide to not sleep in the same bed as him tonight; I’d rather not have him sweat on me any more than he already has. Plus, I’m feeling pretty refreshed from my surprise nap.

So I leave a glass of water on his nightstand and go back downstairs to stretch out on the couch. I don’t know how many movies I go through on Netflix that night, but I don’t fall asleep until sunlight starts to filter through the blinds.

 

 

 

 

I wake up to someone playing with my hair.

I blink up at the white ceiling in mild confusion. I smell soap and shampoo, and it’s so familiar it almost puts me back to sleep with the sensation of someone playing with my scalp. I reach up and pat at what feels like a bare arm; I think I’m still half-asleep.

“You feelin’ any better?”

I hear Marco let out a rumbling laugh from behind my head. I realize now that my head is resting on his thigh and a blanket had been draped over me at some point.

“Yeah, I had to take a shower though. I felt disgusting.” He murmurs.

“…looked grungy too…” I yawn before I sit up and stretch. “Did you eat yet?”

“I had cereal.”

“I’m proud you could feed yourself.” I grin back at him a little mockingly. Marco rolls his eyes and turns his attention to the TV.

“It’s almost noon, so naturally I was starving. Someone was too busy sleeping.” It’s his turn to have a mocking smile.

“Sorry I fucked up my sleep schedule.” I touch his forehead, which has become a habit now, and it feels normal. I heave out a sigh of relief and run a hand through my messy hair. “At least I managed to keep you alive.”

“I’m grateful for your services.”

“It was the least I could do.” I look away from him and drop my gaze to the floor. “You always take care of me.”

When Marco doesn’t say anything, I look up again to meet his gaze. He’s smiling at me in a seemingly doting way, with his chin in his hand like that…

“You’re blushing Jean.”

I blink back at him in shock.

“N-no I’m not!” I don’t know why I stutter, but it happens. I get up in frustration and storm into the kitchen to escape. Even though I denied it, I can feel my cheeks burn as I open the fridge to find the almond milk. I’m too lazy to make anything so I can deal with the stupid nut milk today.

As I pour out the box of Cheerios, I realize I can’t get Marco’s face out of my mind. I don’t think he’s ever looked at me that way before. That expression felt like…like an adoring smile, something my mom would give me when she’s really proud of me. I don’t know…but whatever it was it isn’t good for my heart.

I return to the living room with my bowl and drop back into place beside Marco without a word. He glances at me and my cereal before looking back to the TV.

After I finish my cereal, I feel the need to break the silence. It takes me a while to do it; I stare at the small amount of milk left in my bowl for a few minutes as I think of something to say.

“We should throw a party this week.” I finally manage to utter.

That catches Marco’s attention. He turns to me with a curious expression.

“What’s with that all of a sudden?”

“Eren’s party was so lame, it made me want to have one.”

Marco raises an eyebrow and I can read the expression on his face. He thinks I want to outdo Eren, which is true, but I’m not having a party simply for the sake of making him jealous…

“Remember the last time we threw a party?” Marco asks. My mind goes straight to Sasha projectile vomiting all over our old couch and onto the floor, which Reiner had slipped in and broken one of Mom’s favorite vases. That was a lot to explain in a night.

“We’ll be more careful.” I mutter. “We’ll have it concentrated in my backyard this time, and not the living room.”

“Uh huh…” Marco doesn’t sound convinced.

“It’ll be great! Just our friends, no random plus ones like the last few times.”

Marco seems to weigh the idea for a while, staring off into the distance with a pensive look.

“You can get hella fucked up.”

“When are you sending out the invitation?” Marco asks automatically. I laugh at that, and he makes an offended face in response.

“We can send them out today.”

“You’re inviting everyone right?”

“That’s what I said.”

“ _Everyone_ ,” Marco leans closer to me with a stern expression, “as in Eren, Mina, _and_ Thomas included right?”

I glare at him. “…fine.”

Marco leans back, clearly satisfied.

“Okay I’ll make a Facebook invite for it.”

“Thanks.” I mutter and return my bowl to the kitchen. I stare at the dishes in the sink for a few seconds before casting my gaze out the window. My parties tend to be pretty notorious, or so I’ve been told. I only remember two out of the five I’ve thrown. Marco was usually the responsible host, but this time I plan on keeping it chill and relaxed, unlike the crazy parties we’ve been to. Hopefully this one will add to the hype, but I have a feeling senior year parties are going to be the best.

On Tuesday, Marco and I are going to throw one of the most iconic parties of the summer. Our moms won’t be back until Thursday, which leaves plenty of time to clean up the mess and sober up for their arrival. The more I think about it, the more excited I get.

“Get excited Freckles!” I shout to him from the kitchen. “This is going to be great!”

“You always say that…” I hear him grumble, but when I peek into the living room, I can see he’s smiling.

Tomorrow, we prep. And Tuesday, we party.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always I apologize for the late chapter uploads which are most likely my fault because the college workload is a lot so I never have the time to edit. But anyway I hope you all enjoyed that chapter and look forward to the next one! Happy New Year as well! :)  
> ^^^  
> Happy New Year everyone! Yeah sorry for the late upload! Thanks for being patient, we're nearing the endish of the fic but have no fear a lot is coming and gee boy am I having fun writing it (if you know what I mean ;) )!


	8. "Just Friends"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean is excited to throw another summer party, but considering who his friends are, it’s a given that the party won’t be without some drama. Booze, fights, puking, kissing, and party games ensue.

“Do you really think we need that many cups?”

Marco eyes our cart with a worried expression, taking in the two hundred cups I’ve gathered. I think it’s a reasonable amount, considering our friends never held on to the same cup throughout the night, and I’d be damned if my party ran out of cups.

“I think it’s enough.” I push our cart ahead before making a quick veer down the drink aisle.

Before every party we throw, Marco and I make a habit of going to Target to grab everything we need. Some of the workers recognize us as we speed up and down the store, and I’m sure they know we aren’t up to any good. Marco is the reasonable shopper who reminds me of the budget, while I’m the one who picks up things without reading the price.

“No one drinks cranberry juice when we buy it.” Marco puts back yet another one of my choices. “I think we should stick with lemonade and sodas.”

“Well if someone asks for cranberry juice it’s on you.”

“I’ll be able to handle it.”

Marco gives all the options in front of him a pensive look as he picks out what to get. I lean on the cart and let out a heavy sigh, surrendering the decisions to him.

I have a feeling we’re going to be here for a while.

At least, that’s what I thought, but Marco’s efficiency lands us in the front of the store in record time. We were never in a hurry, and even with my sidetrack wandering we filled our cart in less than an hour. As we approach the open check-out lanes, another display catches my attention. Marco follows me, curious as to see what I could possibly be up to now, and joins me at the soda stand.

“Oh.” I look up from my personal search at the sound of Marco’s voice. He hands me a Coke bottle that reads, “Share a Coke with your best friend”.

“Aw how adorable.” I take it from him and smile. “Don’t worry I have just the one for you!”

Marco makes an excited expression, but it turns into mild disgust when he reads the one I hand him.

“Share a Coke with…Daddy?” He doesn’t seem to believe what he’s reading, and he looks at me in time to catch my seductive wink. “I don’t want it.”

“You have to accept it.” I take the bottle back from him and put it in the cart. “This is a bonding moment.”

I push the cart towards the shortest line and laugh at Marco’s exhausted groan when he follows me.

We’ve spent enough time in this store and spent enough money to ensure that we’ve done our part in preparations. I admit that maybe we go a little too far in terms of a simple teenage party, but it’s in my blood to throw back and have a good time.

The checkout goes by quickly; we’re lucky enough to have a young cashier who smiles at our obvious implications with our purchases. There have been times where we were questioned or judged with a suspicious look from the older cashiers.

“God I love Target.” I muse as we push our cart through the parking lot.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if we got banned from shopping there.” Marco folds up the receipt and slides it into his pocket with a tired sigh. I’m sure he’s already thinking about how much of a pain in the ass the next forty-eight hours are going to be.

I unlock the doors as we approach the car and pause before I start moving the bags.

“Did you ever hear from Reiner or Ymir?”

Marco nodded. “Reiner’s stopping at Nanaba’s before coming over tomorrow and he’s bringing Ymir with him. Ymir said she has to be bartender and DJ or else she isn’t coming.”

I roll my eyes at the obviously Ymir-like threat. “Of course. Hey…any idea what’s going on with Reiner and Bert? Reiner’s just coming with Ymir, right?”

Marco frowns, turning away to start putting the bags in the trunk.

“I think Bert’s been really stressed with college coming up, and I guess that’s causing him to spend less time with Reiner.”

“But it looks like they’ve been fighting or something.” I move the cart from side to side as I wait for Marco to get the last bag. “At Eren’s they weren’t even talking to each other.”

With a shrug, Marco closes the trunk and turns to give me a serious look.

“I don’t know what’s up with them, but it isn’t normal.”

“Tell me about it…I hope it’s nothing serious, those two have been glued to the hip since birth.” I shake my head and push the cart back towards the return stall.

“Whatever it is, I know they’ll work it out.” Marco sounds a little hesitant, and it makes me question whether he actually knows more to the story than what he’s telling me. I don’t question further, and slide into the driver’s seat to start the engine. The sun had long set, leaving Trost with its trademark lavender and starless sky overhead; I think it was a good idea to do the shopping the night before instead of right before the party. The last thing we needed to do was rush around in a panic (like we’ve done several times before) trying to get everything together before people started showing up.

“Tomorrow’s the big day Freckles. You ready?” I smirk as we pull out of the lot and begin the commute home.

Marco lets out a light chuckle and adjusts the radio. “The question is: are you, Jean?”

 

* * *

 

Things are off to a great start.

Marco and I have already fucked up our schedule by oversleeping. Waking up at noon wasn’t part of the plan, but maybe four hours is plenty of time to set up for a party.

Nonetheless, we scramble around the house in the exact panic we were trying to avoid.

Marco sets up bowls on the kitchen island and pours snacks all while balancing the phone between his ear and shoulder as he converses with the pizza place we decided to order from. I, on the other hand, focus on cleaning the living room and make a sign for all guests to enter through the back. I tape it to the front door and hope for the best before I run to help Marco set up the rest of the stuff we bought.

Around three, Reiner pulls into the driveway in the Death Machine with his music cranked high enough to entertain the entire block.

“I’m trying to not get reported tonight Reiner!” I shout as Marco and I emerge from the garage, dragging whatever toys we could find that would keep drunk teenagers occupied.

Reiner salutes me before turning off the engine and hopping out into the grass. Ymir comes around the other side and shoots us a snarky smile.

“Too bad there aren’t any ladies here to see you guys workin’ so hard in the summer heat!”

“At least you’re here Ymir.” Marco drops the bean-bag toss in the corner of the yard and smiles back at her. “We all know you appreciate watching us sweat.”

“Damn right Freckles.” Ymir shares a glance with Reiner, who pops the trunk to his car with a devious grin. “I hope you guys are ready for a banging night!”

Marco and I approach the car to sneak a peek at what they brought.

“Geez did Nanaba rob a liquor store or something?” I pale at the amount of booze they brought. “You do understand that this is a lowkey thing, right? There’s no way we’re going to drink that much.”

“Don’t worry, the rest is mine.” Ymir adjusted her ponytail and cast a quick look around. “Good thing y’all got high fences over here. Nothing’s more annoying than nosy neighbors.”

“Tell me about it.” I mutter as I pick up a case of beer. I would be the one getting in trouble for this bullshit, of course I’m going to be a little stealthy about it.

Marco and Reiner help carry the booze in the house while Ymir sets up her workplace in the kitchen. She hums to herself as she hooks up her speaker and laptop up and away from the counters; a safe bet if she wanted to avoid an expensive catastrophe. Her drink station is what scares me the most though. Bottles of tequila, vodka, and rum line the counter along with some of the mixers Marco and I had bought last night.

Reiner nods in appreciation as Ymir hooks up my mom’s blender, which I’ve only seen her use it for those nasty juices she drinks, and winks at her.

“Hit me up Ymir. You were talking about making up a new drink?”

Ymir freezes in place, and her eyes lock on Reiner in excitement. “This early blondie? You want to try the Naked Bulldozer?”

“…the what?” Marco’s voice drips with disbelief when he overhears their conversation. Honestly, I’m not surprised by the drink name; Ymir’s constantly pulling them out of her ass, so it’s becoming kind of a go-with-the-flow thing nowadays. As long as she didn’t give me anymore Backwards Thongs I’d be okay.

Reiner lets out a loud laugh that echoes through my house. “Sounds like a good time.”

I notice the bags under his eyes and the way his smile is ever so slightly forced to keep up that hearty exterior of his. It looks like he and Bert still hadn’t figured things out; I mean, I figured as much, but if anything, it seems like things may have gotten worse.

And cue Reiner’s binge drinking rampage.

Marco drops a steady hand on Reiner’s shoulder and gives him a few pats before going outside. They don’t exchange any words, but some sort of understanding passes between them that I can’t understand.

“Just give me a sample for now, okay?” Reiner drops into a seat at the counter and reads the back of one of the bottles. “You ever tried to make a protein shake cocktail?”

The thought alone makes me want to gag. As I follow Marco outside, I can hear Ymir’s cackling:

“Do you want to die tonight or not?!”

 

 

Eren and Armin show up right at four, ready to dive in to whatever food that’s available; well, at least Armin is polite enough to say hi to everyone before grabbing a bowl of pretzels rather than storming in screaming about dying of hunger.

Sasha, Thomas, and Mina come together not too long after that, followed by Connie and Christa who come at five. By the time everyone had arrived, the pizza had been delivered and Ymir was handing out drinks faster than I could keep up.

Ymir’s perfect choice in music keeps everything rolling smoothly without Marco or I having to do anything, and as long as no one goes crazy, I think the party is going to be exactly what we were aiming for: just a chill get-together.

I suspect that Ymir’s slipped me another Backwards Thong again, but I haven’t found the guts to confront her since Christa showed up. It’s as if her self-confidence multiplied the second her girlfriend walked through the door and there was nothing we could do about it. Christa stands at Ymir’s side with that contagious smile on her face as she knowingly hands people drinks that could easily make them fall on their face. She was clearly enjoying herself.

Somehow I’ve been roped into a vicious game of beer pong with Connie, Reiner, and Eren; if Connie could get his head in the game we could actually win, but Reiner’s proving to be a monster at the game despite being drunker than the rest of us.

“Drink up bitches!” Reiner bellows when he lands the final blow. Eren jumps him in pure joy while Connie and I groan before chugging our share.

The kitchen was, thankfully, clearing out as people went out into the yard to hang around on the porch. Although we had situated ourselves at the dining room table, it allowed me to monitor who came in and out of the house without much trouble at all. That being said, I hadn’t seen much of Marco since the party really started. It was reaching eight o’clock and the boy was nowhere to be seen. I assume he’s out in the yard where I can’t see him with Mina and Thomas, as usual.

“Ready for round three?” Reiner rearranges the cups with one hand while drinking his beer with the other. “I’ll give you two another chance!”

“Hell no man, you’re crazy!” Connie shakes his head in disbelief before clapping me on the back. “Can you believe him?”

I can’t help but laugh at how drunk everyone is. I can feel the last game catching up to me as I steady my grip on the table.

“Oh come on, another game won’t kill you.” Reiner fist bumps the air as he polishes off his (seventh?) beer. Eren gives him the side-eye and shakes his head at us while mouthing ‘don’t do it’, and I can see another round ending with me throwing my drink in frustration or Reiner flipping the table in outrage. Both have happened before. In my house.

“We. Are. Not. Playing. Again! Can you get that through your hazy mind?” Connie steps forward to set him straight, but his serious tone doesn’t last. “There are other games we gotta start, why waste time playing the same one over and over again?”

Thank you Connie.

“You’re right!” Reiner gasps, “I almost forgot our tradition!” Without any explanation, Reiner leads the way through the kitchen and outside, snatching up an empty bottle as he goes.

I groan, but find myself following him.

“I swear, if you say spin the–”

“EVERYONE GATHER ROUND FOR SPIN THE BOTTLE!” he bellows out the door and I hesitate by the patio doors in disappointment. Of fucking course it is.

“Let’s go Kirschtein!” Ymir gives me a heavy push that nearly sends me flying off the porch, and Connie doesn’t bother trying to catch me as he and Eren rush to take their place in the circle.

I don’t understand why this game is so popular among my friends. We play it every. Single. Time. It’s old, and it isn’t even entertaining anymore!

As I walk over to the others, I notice Marco and the others joining the circle too; Marco catches my gaze and comes over to sit by me with a smile that gives away how plastered he is.

“Jean where have you been?”

I roll my eyes. “You’re one to talk. I’ve been in the house, where were you?”

Marco leans back in the grass and shrugs. “We’ve been outside. Sasha wanted to smoke.”

I cast him a sidelong glance; the idea of Marco smoking with Sasha didn’t register in my brain, considering I’ve never seen the guy express any interest in it. He used to be so hesitant about drinking, and now this? The only people I can blame for his shift in “outside activities” is Mina and Thomas, taking him away to their shady business when they weren’t pushing shots down his throat.

“Is that why it’s so dank over here?” Eren casts Sasha a playful grin which earns him a round of laughter from the others.

“You shoulda joined us Eren, it was a good time.” Sasha adjusts her dress and flashes Reiner the peace sign. “Spin that bottle meister!”

No one had to tell Reiner twice. It takes him a few times to get the bottle to spin properly, but when he does, the first person it lands on is Ymir.

“Oh come on!” Reiner cries. Despite the mildly disgusted look on her face, Ymir crosses the distance and pecks him on the mouth before retreating back to her girlfriend nearly in tears.

“Oh God I never want to do that again…”

_Make it end._

The bottle goes around and around and I’m thankful enough to not have it land on me for a while. I tune back in just in time to see Mina land on Marco, of course, and she nearly trips trying to get over to us.

Here we go.

I give Marco my best side-eye and notice that he’s looking at me too. The rest of the crowd is “oooh”ing at the results as if this was some major breakthrough we’ve all been waiting for.

Yes, Mina’s dream of kissing Marco is finally about to come true, yippity fucking doo-dah. I reach beside me and pick up Connie’s beer to take a few sips out of it, and the guy doesn’t protest.

Mina kneels in front of Marco and gives him a shy smile that makes my skin itch. In my mind, I can hear the music that plays in the background when the main character is about to kiss the girl, which is normally soft and building, but in my perspective it’s the Jaws theme song. I’m not religious, but I’ll pray for Marco to get through this. Unless he wants it. I hope he doesn’t want this.

 As she leans in to close the distance, Eren says something that makes Marco turn his head to respond with a dirty glare, and Mina ends up getting a mouthful of Marco’s cheek instead.

Oh.

_Oh no._

I have to bite my cheek to stop myself from laughing at one of the most awkward sights I’ve ever had to witness. Aside from Connie and Sasha dumpster diving in their underwear.

“Wow, amazing.” Connie applauds with the rest of the group as Mina slowly makes her way back to her spot and desperately tries to hide her disappointment.

Marco’s still laughing at whatever Eren had said, and he shares a friendly smile with Mina, but I’m watching Marco a little more carefully now. That was him…avoiding the kiss, wasn’t it? I mean, he has no reason to, unless he really didn’t want Mina to kiss him (which I don’t blame him at all), but otherwise it just looks like a classic Marco blunder.

I think I zone out for a few more turns because the next thing I know the bottle is being placed in my hands. Well, at least this is the last turn and I managed to get out of this game relatively scratch free.

The bottle makes its rotations, and when it finally comes to a stop I can only blink at the result. Everyone gasps before they start clapping again, and I follow the bottle’s path to see Marco also staring down at it.

He gives me a suggestive smile before he turns his body to face me fully.

This was happening?

I have to kiss Marco?

Judging from the intense stares directed our way, there’s no way either of us can back down from it. They think that they’re pressuring me to kiss my best friend in front of them, like this is some sort of test of courage.

Jokes on them. Marco’s the best person I could have landed on.

As we move closer, we spend a few seconds staring at each other in disbelief. Marco’s smile is contagious, and I try to force my grin into something remotely serious, but let’s be real here:

This is fucking ridiculous.

I feel like I’m in some lame movie where the couple says a cheesy line right before the credits roll over the screen; when did my life turn into a rom-com?

To break the tension, I decide to roll with it when Marco’s close enough to brush noses with me. “Are you going to whisper sweet nothings into my ear and carry me up to your castle chambers my fair prince?”

He’s always been good at handling the roles I give to him. He isn’t fazed by my random comment at all; he only narrows his eyes in a surprisingly seductive way and lowers his voice so only I can hear his reply.

“Sweet nothings? I’m more of a man that recites poetry and serenades to get what I want.”

His response leaves me a little lightheaded. “How romantic! You’ve won me over.”

I don’t hesitate when I pull him into my orbit and press my lips against his; it’s that false sense of confidence that alcohol gives you in times like this that makes it all possible. Marco returns my kiss gracefully, and I don’t miss the way his tongue sneaks into my mouth teasingly before he pulls away. As I lean back, I focus on the slight tingle his kiss left behind and run my tongue over my lips in confirmation. That happened.

When we turn to look at the others, they’ve all gone silent.

“…holy shit.” Eren gawks at us in shock. “They actually did it.”

Well, if looks could kill, Mina would have butchered me horror-movie-style and hung my body from the tree. Not like I could fucking care; she has to face the obvious fact that Marco would rather kiss me than her. I wonder how that feels?

Marco lets out a hearty laugh that launches everyone back into normality and gives an extra kick-start to my heart.

The group disperses once again; Marco, Mina, Thomas, Eren and Armin go inside with Ymir and Christa while I stay behind with Reiner and Connie to play bean-bag toss. I make the mistake of accepting the “personally made” drinks Ymir sent Christa out to deliver to us, and halfway through my cup I begin to realize that this was it, and I had sealed my fate for a crazy night.

“Jesus Jean, how drunk are you?” Connie smacks a hand to his forehead when we lose yet another game, thanks to yours truly. “It’s us against just Reiner, this should be easy!”

“Jean’s just getting on my level.” Reiner chuckles back as he gathers his designated colors for another round.

“Clearly you’ve been on another level for a while, I mean you actually took spin the bottle seriously.”

“Everyone takes that stupid game seriously.” I mutter back and pick up the stray bean bags by my feet.

“Well, at least Marco took the chance when he got it, right?” Connie chuckled quietly, and it sounded mostly to himself.

“What do you mean?” I look up in time to see Reiner throw Connie a dirty look, but I’m worried that they noticed I’m slurring my words.

“He doesn’t mean anything.” Reiner moves to get into position and raises an eyebrow. “Ready for another game?”

“This was nothing for Marco, we used to kiss each other all the time.” I move out of the way to let Reiner go first, but my words seemed to leave him at a standstill.

“Wait…you guys what?” Connie’s eyes nearly bug out of his head when he grabs me by the arm. “What do you mean?”

I blink back at him in confusion.

“When we were little we’d kiss each other goodbye or for no reason at all…we stopped when we started going to middle school ‘cuz people thought it was weird…” Was this an unusual thing? Should I not be telling them this?

“Like…on the mouth…?” Connie presses with a look of disbelief.

I hesitate at his response. “…yeah?”

“Wow…okay.” Connie lets go of my arm and gives Reiner a shake of his head. “There you go.”

“That’s adorable.” Reiner smirks at my expression and tosses his bean bag perfectly into the hole. “It’s good to know that you two are so close.”

That’s my point. If Marco wanted to kiss me, all he had to do was ask. I don’t mind, considering we’ve done it so many times before. I guess it is kind of a weird thing to admit, and I am the kind of person who runs their mouth after a few drinks at a party. I always considered it normal though, I’m pretty sure Sasha and I kissed all the time when we were kids too.

“What you gotta do is,” Connie brings me back to the conversation I nearly forgot we were having, “be wary ‘cause Mina and Thomas are probably having a shot war right now with Marco in the middle.”

“Don’t remind me.” I manage to polish off my cup and set it on the table, only for it to fall over and into the grass. Classic.

“First things first, Jean I think Sasha is summoning you.” Reiner cracks open another beer and points ahead where Sasha is dancing, reeling me in with her signature hand motions.

I make my way over to her the best I can, and she giggles at my attempt before grabbing my hands.

“Dance with me, drunk boy.”

I can only return her warm smile and humor her, allowing her to pull me along to the music in the sloppy side-to-side dance I vaguely remember from our childhood. As the music speeds up, we spin each other in dangerous circles, breaking out into laughter as the world melts together in splotches of green and grey, and God do I miss moments like these. I miss that lighthearted laughter that comes from Sasha’s stomach when she’s genuinely happy; I miss that sparkle in her brown eyes when she sees something that she loves.

 _You’re beautiful when you’re smiling_.

“Thank you Jeanbo.” Sasha murmurs against my chest when the music slows down.

 _I said that out loud_?

Her hands rest over my heart, where I’m sure she can hear the rapid beating as I try to catch my breath. We sway together to the music as we try to stay upright despite the world still spinning around us, and holy shit I really did drink too much…

Sasha quickly pushes away to stand on the picnic table beside us, and she pulls her hair out of her ponytail in a dramatic gesture that makes Connie whistle from across the yard. I’m vaguely aware that Eren’s returned from the house and he comes to stand by me to watch Sasha’s impressive air guitar solo.

“What a gem.” Eren muses as Sasha goes all out, whipping her hair around in her usual, crazy, and drunk antics. I’m just worried about her falling off the table and hitting her head. Yes, it’s happened before. “Damn Sasha give it a rest it can’t go on forever!”

Sasha lets out a breathless laugh as she wraps it up, surely putting other air guitarists to shame with her performance, and I can only clap at the end. I don’t catch exactly what Eren says to her, but I think it has something to do with hand jobs, and Sasha breaks into an uncontrollable fit of laughter that’s so contagious it makes the rest of us laugh too. Thomas claps from the porch along with Marco, who had apparently been watching the entire thing as well.

Eren keeps sending jokes Sasha’s way in an attempt to make her laugh, and he succeeds.

He succeeds a little too well.

“Ugh I’m gonna puke from laughing too hard, hah…hey-hey Sasha what’s running down your leg…?” Eren’s question draws our attention to the sure but steady stream that runs down Sasha’s legs as she tries to stop laughing, and as sad as it is to say, this isn’t the first time Sasha’s pissed herself in front of me.

“Oh Sash…” Reiner helps her down from the picnic table with a gentle smile. “What is this, the third time?”

“It’s Eren’s fault for telling stupid jokes!” Sasha points an accusing finger, but there’s no anger on her face. “Whatever, the grass needed some water, right? It’s not all bad, I wore a dress.”

“Sasha, what did you do?” Thomas crosses the lawn to take in her disheveled appearance, and he sounds _pissed_. “Are you serious?”

“Look it was an accident I was gonna go pee after my guitar solo–”

“So what? We didn’t bring any changes of clothes, what are you going to do now?”

Sasha adjusts the hem of her dress with a pensive look.

“Well my dress is still clean, so…commando?”

“Oh my God Sasha, no! That’s disgusting!” Thomas gestures to his car and shakes his head in disdain. “Come on, let’s go you’ve had enough to drink tonight.”

“Look Thomas, it’s my fault Sasha pissed herself, okay? You don’t have to blame her for anything.” Eren scowls back at Thomas and moves closer to Sasha, but before he can say anything else, Connie is in Thomas’s face.

“What the fuck is your problem Thomas? Your girlfriend has an accident and you treat her like it’s her fault?”

Thomas drops his gaze to Connie as if he’s surprised Connie even said anything.

“It is her fault. If she had to use the bathroom, she should have done so instead of waiting until the point where its running down her leg. It’s an embarrassment!”

“For who? Sasha’s fine! She’s done this shit in front of us before and we couldn’t give a fuck!” Connie’s voice rises to a shout, and through my own drunken haze, I can sense that things are getting bad really fast.

Sasha breaks into a small whimper that tears my attention back to her. There was nothing Sasha hated more than having all of the negative attention directed towards her. Being so carefree made her fear conflict, and God knows I hate confrontation myself.

“Sasha, get in the car we’re leaving.” Thomas sets down his cup on the table and moves to lead the way, but Connie blocks him again.

“She’s not going anywhere, the party’s not over.”

Eren scoffs. “Sash, you’re nowhere ready to leave, are you?”

“I want to stay.” Sasha’s usually strong voice comes out as barely a whisper.

“Sasha–” Thomas takes a step towards her and I imagine some sort of thin cord snapping. The cord that held everything together between us as friends; the strain on it had finally gotten to be too much, and this was the result.

“Dude she doesn’t want to fucking go with you! Stop being a prick and go home by yourself!” Connie’s snarl earns Thomas’s full attention, and then things start moving faster than I can understand. One moment Marco was on the porch, the next he’s pulling Thomas back by his shirt while Reiner desperately tries to hold Connie in place. Connie launches into full squirrel-mode, dead-set on taking out Thomas with the months of anger he’s stored in his tiny body, and Thomas’s larger size already puts him at an advantage in taking down Connie if he wanted to.

And it looks like Thomas is _strong._ Even Marco has a hard time keeping him back; their shouts across the yard and panicked calls from the girls inside create chaos that only makes Sasha burst into tears. I drag her away from the scuffle before Thomas can knock Eren into one of us and pull her into the house. Armin dashes past us and into the yard to try to pull Eren off of Thomas’s shoulders.

This was hell.

“You don’t fucking deserve her, asshole!” Connie struggles to push past Reiner to direct his feral glare at Thomas.

“And you think you do? You blew your chance when you had it Connie! And you know what, she cried about you for months!” Marco successfully pushes Thomas back so there’s a safe distance between the opposing sides. “Our relationship is none of your business!”

I glance at Sasha and figure that’s enough for one night.

I grasp her hand tightly and lead her upstairs, straight to the bathroom and close the door behind us. Sasha’s an emotional wreck, and as horrible as I am with these types of social situations, I can only pull her against me and let her cry on my shoulder. That’s what I’d do when we were younger, and I can only hope that the same thing will help her now.

“I’m so sorry Sash…” I run my fingers through the soft strands of her hair while she holds me tight, her body shaking with every sob. “It’s gonna be okay, okay?”

“Okay.”

After a few moments she calms down enough to let me go and I turn to show her how the shower works. I set the temperature for her to make it easier and point to the handle.

“So when you’re done you just turn this all the way to the right until it shuts off. If this isn’t warm enough just turn it to the left. I’ll go bring you a change of my clothes that you can wear to bed–”

 I turn to make sure she’s listening to me and nearly scream out in shock.

Sasha’s completely stripped out of her clothes and stands before me, as naked as I’ve ever seen her. I force my eyes away before they can wander any more than they already have.

“Why did you take everything off right now?”

“I’m taking a shower, right?” Granted, I know Sasha’s wasted, but give me a break. I’ve seen the girl in her underwear countless times, but this is completely different. And Sasha has no shame.

“Okay, well go ahead.” I move aside and guide her into the shower with a shaky hand; I’m already itching to run out of the room as fast as I can. “I’ll be back with your clothes. Use the towel right there.”

“Okay.”

I quickly shut the bathroom door behind me and let out a panicked gust of air. Okay, that happened. That’s something I can’t un-see.

There’s no issue finding a t-shirt and shorts for her, it’s the gathering of courage to step back into the bathroom that takes me so long.

“You got your towel?” I call from behind the door.

“Yup.” She calls back.

I step back into the bathroom to find her, thankfully, wrapped in her towel and freshly showered. I help her get changed, gather her dirty clothes to dump in the washer, and lead her to the guest bedroom across the hall from my parent’s bedroom.

“Everyone’s fighting and it’s my fault.” Sasha sniffs as I tuck her in. I give her a stern shake of my head.

“You did nothing wrong Sasha, don’t stress about it. Just get some rest, okay?”

She gives my hand a tight squeeze before kissing my cheek.

“Thank you.”

I leave her for the night and pause at the top of the stairs, listening for any more shouting. If anything, the music’s been turned down a little lower, but the voices downstairs sound calm again. Shit had hit the fan with Sasha and Thomas, and geez I have no idea what was happening in our friend group, but it isn’t looking good at all.

I make my way back downstairs as carefully as possible, using the railing as my lifeline to stop me from toppling over and potentially killing myself. I can admit that I’ve overdone it; the room spins at all the possible angles, making the trip as dangerous as it could possibly be, and I’m surprised I was able to handle that situation with Sasha so smoothly. Sober me would have been an awkward mess and potentially traumatized for life, but drunk me is still trying to maintain the calm amidst the chaos.

I shuffle in the kitchen and see Marco leaning over the sink. With both hands outstretched on either side of the wide basin, he hangs his head low and I can tell what’s happening. He’s the only one in the kitchen, so I’m assuming the party has finally moved completely outdoors to die off.

“You good Freckles?” I laugh and clap him on the back. I realize that probably wasn’t the best decision as he groans at the contact. He shakes his head slowly before turning to look at me.

“How’s Sasha?”

“She’s sleeping upstairs. Dunno how she’s taking it though.” I mumble and fall back against the counter a little hard. “I’m too drunk to make her feel better, let alone figure out what’s going on.”

Marco lets out a weak chuckle.

I watch the party continue through the glass patio doors. Reiner has somehow lost his shirt, and Eren lies outstretched on the lawn like a dead body. The others sit in chairs by the porch stairs while Thomas and Mina were nowhere in sight, nor was Thomas’s car. I’m assuming the issue had been resolved, considering Connie was still in one piece with Reiner, but I don’t have the mental capacity to be dealing with that issue right now. That was a problem for tomorrow, where sober Jean would have to handle the consequences.

The lights from the kitchen and porch was enough to illuminate the backyard for everyone to see as midnight approached, and I had already explained that the living room was open sleeping quarters for everyone. It looked like everyone was going to crash pretty soon, so I’ll leave it to them to call it quits as long as they stay quiet.

“Can you take me to the bathroom?” Marco asks suddenly. I don’t hesitate; I link arms with him and steer us around the corner and down the hall. The bathroom’s inconvenient location forces us to make our way to the front of the house, and that’s dangerous because I don’t think Marco’s gonna last that long. I talk to try and distract him, but it doesn’t seem to be working.

With the bathroom in sight, Marco’s chest heaves a little and he claps a hand over his mouth.

“I swear to god if you puke on Mom’s new rug!” I push him as fast as I can through the open door and hold him in front of the toilet just in time for him to spew his mistakes into it. I place a hand on his back and massage it in slow circles as his body quakes underneath it.

“’M sorry…” Marco groans with a weak smile. I settle at his side on the floor and scowl.

“What are you apologizing for?” I demand. “It’s not your fault.”

Marco lets out a shaky sigh before resting his head on the toilet seat (which I don’t recommend for anyone). “I shouldn’t have drunk so much…”

“Me either.” I shrug. “But it’s all good, don’t feel bad about it. But then again you shouldn’t let Mina push shots down your throat when you know that you’re a lightweight–”

I’m cut off by Marco’s sudden upheaval, signaling the next onslaught of heavy convulsions. I try not to focus on the sound of his puke hitting the toilet water, or the fact that his puke smells like straight up fruit punch and vodka. But it makes my stomach curdle, and to be honest I wasn’t feeling too hot then either…and the cold sweat is a sign that I’m about to be in Marco’s place.

I give Marco a light sympathy pat on the back before sliding around him to lean over the bathtub.

“Jean what’s wrong?” he asks me once he finishes, and when I open my mouth it isn’t to answer him. I feel my body shake as I throw up just about every drink Ymir’s forced into me tonight, and it makes my stomach clench as I try to catch my breath between gagging. I feel Marco’s hand find its way between my shoulder blades, following that steady and firm pressure that feels both nostalgic and comforting. Marco has always done it better than I ever could, and I think it’s because he has more of a soothing and almost-mothering presence to him. He sits behind me and alternates between rubbing and pounding my back as I empty my stomach, and when I collapse back in exhaustion I end up falling against his chest.

“Holy shit.” I whisper; Marco only laughs at me. I say that because the spinning has somehow intensified now that I’m sitting, and I feel like it’s only a matter of time before I pass out.

Marco and I sit in silence for a little while, but the longer we sit, the more something bothers me.

“Marco.”

I feel him shift behind me. “Mhm?”

“You know…if you ever want to kiss me, all you have to do is ask.” I end up muttering it because it’s actually a little embarrassing. I mean, yeah we’d kiss all the time and thought nothing of it, but it was never something we had to _talk_ about. It was just something we did naturally. I mean, I’m pretty sure it’s normal to kiss the people you’re close to, so it wasn’t rocket science for me to feel comfortable enough for Marco to kiss me.

“…what?”

Marco’s response makes me turn around to look at him in confusion. He stares at me with a mixture of shock and what kind of looks like fear. It’s so comical that it makes me laugh, a little too loudly to be appropriate; it only makes Marco’s expression worsen and I don’t understand why.

“Why are you making that face? I’m serious!”

“You said…if I want to kiss you I can just ask? Why did you say that?” I can tell Marco’s wasted as it takes him a while to get his words out properly. I think he’s concerned that he’s completely misheard me.

I lean closer and pronounce my words carefully. “Just ask. I don’t mind. In return I’ll tell you when I want to.”

“When have you ever wanted to kiss me?” Marco scoffs and it makes me roll my eyes. “I just don’t understand–”

“Shh.” I interrupt him and put a finger to his lips. “No more.”

“Jean.”

“Shh.” I snicker at his tortured expression, signaling I’m much drunker than I originally thought I was. I don’t notice that he’s moved in closer until a chill runs up my spine.

“Then can I kiss you?” he asks softly, his eyes locked on me with an emotion I can’t place.

I slightly lean away from his approach with a sly smile. “Not after we’ve both been puking.”

“We both did, so it’s fine, right?” I narrow my eyes when his logic doesn’t add up, but I don’t move to stop him when he presses our lips together. I close my eyes and rest my hand on the back of his neck, nearly overwhelmed by the dizzy sensation that takes over when I’m sitting still. What keeps me aware is the softness of Marco lips, the feeling of his tongue roaming through the inside of my mouth, and the warmth of his fingers on my jaw. This kiss is much more intense than the one we had outside, and the longer it goes on the more I want this moment to never end. This is warm and comfortable, sitting in Marco’s lap feels natural as we make out, and when I pull away from him I can’t hide the smile on my face.

Marco stares at me warily, his cheeks flushed pink.

“Let’s go to bed Marco.” I use his shoulders to haul myself up before offering my hand. Marco hesitates before he takes it, and he nearly brings both of us back to the floor as he gets up. As he straightens up in front of me, I find myself poking at his chest. “Oi you got puke on your shirt.”

“It’s not puke, it’s just juice.” Marco mumbles, but I’m already pulling his shirt off.

“Well it’s sweaty take it off.” Marco lets me take it off with a defeated expression.

We trudge up the stairs together, slowly but surely, and by the time we reach my room I have spots in my vision. Without really thinking about it, I unzip my shorts and kick them aside before approaching my bed. He hesitates in front of me, and my hand moves to unzip his.

“You’ll be hot.” I yawn as I yank the zipper down.

Marco jolts under my touch. “I-it’s fine! Go get your sweatpants and I’ll turn the air conditioning on, okay?”

He sounds kind of panicked, doesn’t he?

I shrug it away and go into my closet to find my sweats. I decide to go commando and turn to see that Marco’s already got his on as he adjusts the settings to my air conditioner. The flex and strain of his back muscles draw me closer as I watch him try to find the perfect setting.

I flip off the lights and pull Marco into bed with me where we wrap ourselves in the sheets and pillows, exhausted from the day’s events.

“What a night.” Marco groans beside me.

“What a night.” I repeat in agreement. I turn to bury my face in Marco’s chest and that’s when my consciousness fails me.

 

 

* * *

 

 

I wake up in the morning with a throbbing headache, a sweaty shirt, and a disgusting taste in my mouth. I groan when I lazily roll onto my side, and end up knocking foreheads with Marco.

“Ow…” he mutters back at me. He slowly opens his eyes to stare into mine, and I can see that his soul had left his body long ago.

“Sorry.”

He rubs at his forehead absent-mindedly while his face suddenly turns to disgust.

“I puked last night, didn’t I?”

“You can taste it too huh?”

Marco blinks at me. “You too?”

I roll my eyes. “You don’t remember? We had a puking party downstairs, it was great. I puked in the bathtub.” Horror dawns on me when I realized I never rinsed that out. Oh man, I don’t want to clean that up…

Marco lets out a weak laugh. “Puking party, huh.”

“Yeah, we even made out, that’s probably why everything tastes like shit.” I sit up with a sigh and focus on popping my joints.

Marco’s silent for a few moments, which makes me turn to look at him.

He’s staring up at me warily.

“We made out? After throwing up?”

“Don’t act like you can’t remember.” I crack my neck with a satisfying click and smile. “But yeah, isn’t that kind of nasty?”

“…the kissing or the puking?”

“You’re an idiot.” I say simply and get out of bed. “Come on we have body removal service to get to.” I leave the room without waiting for him to respond. As much as I want to brush my teeth, shower, and crawl back into bed with seven aspirins in me, I have to play responsible party host and make sure my friends aren’t dead.

I try to replay the things that happened last night.

Sasha and Thomas got into a fight. Marco and I kissed, twice. Sasha pissed herself. I saw Sasha naked. I threw up. Marco threw up. Thomas left after fighting with Connie.

I’m sure that isn’t in the correct order, but the night itself feels like an enigma.

What was I missing? Everything had happened so fast I never had time to process it.

I rest my hand on the railing as I near the stairs, and my eyes wander to the closed door down the hall. That’s right, Sasha was sleeping in the guest room!

“Marco I’m gonna check on Sasha, can you see if anything’s broken downstairs? Don’t call 911 until I’m down there, okay?”

“Roger.” Marco’s reply is one from a dead man; the hollow voice of the hungover is not a myth.

I step into the bedroom and slowly approach the sleeping form in front of me. Sasha’s still knocked out; her hair is a splayed mess on the pillows, and somehow all of the blankets have managed to fall onto the floor. I sit on the edge of the bed, and ponder whether I should wake her up or let her sleep a little longer. I decide on the latter choice and tiptoe my way back out into the hall and downstairs.

 

Marco ends up being the responsible one who gets everyone up and out the door satisfied. Reiner commends me for a party well-done despite the sour patches, and gives Ymir, Christa, and Connie a ride home. Ultimately, Eren is the one who takes Sasha home along with Armin, and the guy gives me a non-threatening smile along with a fucking _compliment_ before leaving. What the hell happened last night?!

“Looks like the night wasn’t a complete disaster.” Marco sighs as he swipes the mop across the wooden floor; in just one night it managed to get coated in stains and sticky drink residue from my messy friends. I hum in agreement, picking up the stray cups along the tables and windowsills to toss in the garbage bag I tow around the house.

“Aside from the fight and throwing up, I think this was a good one.” I pour the leftover liquids in one cup and move on to the dining room to clean up the ping-pong table. “Is your memory as hazy as mine?”

“Honestly…I don’t remember what happened after Thomas left.” Marco rounds the corner to mop the living room floor. He stops to lean on the handle and gives me a serious look.

“Jean, I don’t think that conflict between Connie and Thomas was a good thing.”

I shrug. “We both knew it was bound to happen, didn’t we?”

Marco shook his head. “Not like this…I mean, Sasha was still upset when she left with Eren, and I doubt things are going to be resolved quickly.”

I drop the last cup into the bag and cock my head to the side.

“So what? Things are going to be super awkward from now on?”

Marco nodded.

I think back to what he just said about not remembering anything. So, his surprise this morning was actually authentic? He really didn’t remember what happened last night? I mean, I can believe it; Marco was shit-faced last night, and so was I, but at least I wasn’t fucking blacked out. To be fair, I normally don’t remember parties in the first place, but Marco getting to that point…that’s a first. Which means… he didn’t remember me telling him about kissing? It would feel repetitive if I told him again…

I pick up the cup that holds the leftover liquids of at least ten others. It’s a nasty brown from the combinations of Coke, fruit punch, and lemonade I’ve poured into it and not to mention all the booze that came with each. It just smells like soda and rum, but it could easily be one of Ymir’s new drinks. The dark, daredevil part of me feels tempted to take a sip out of it to curb my hangover for the next couple of hours, but the sane part of me is strong enough to overrule it.

“Jean…” Marco’s voice draws me back into the conversation. He wrings the mop in his hands with a strained look that doesn’t match him. “You said that we kissed last night…is that true?”

“Twice.”

“Huh?”

“We kissed twice.” I drop my gaze back to the cup and swirl around the nasty mixture inside.

Marco’s silent. Maybe my response scared him? I think my tone was a little sharp.

“I-” Marco and I speak at the same time; I wave away my response. “You first.”

Another pained look.

“I just wanted to know if you’re okay…with that.”

I blink and slowly put the cup down.

“Okay with what?”

“That we…you know…” Marco doesn’t look at me, he looks at the cup in my hands.

I’m a little frustrated with the fact that he doesn’t remember. That he has no idea what the fuck happened last night, and the fact he doesn’t make sense to me sometimes. I hope my voice doesn’t sound angry.

“Why wouldn’t I be okay with that?”

Marco’s face morphs into slight confusion.

“We used to kiss all the time, it’s nothing new to me.” I turn away and take the cup into the kitchen to dump it down the sink. I want this conversation to be over already.

_Unless you don’t remember that either._

Maybe some telepathic message goes to Marco to make him understand, because he drops the subject and we break off to clean the rest of the house. I pick up the trash from the yard and return to him in the kitchen scrubbing out the blender.

“The Fourth is going to be a shit-show.”

Marco shrugs at my comment. “Honestly I doubt everyone will show up.”

The fourth of July was only a week away, and things couldn’t be worse. It was tradition to go and see the fireworks together, but who knows it might just end up being me and Marco in the end. Whatever it may be, I can’t see anything positive coming from the holiday we used to love celebrating the most over summer break.

I guess we’re just going to have to wing it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I don’t know about you guys, but I really loved this chapter. Awkward, oblivious Jean is my favorite and I think my buddy whatsinthebasement did that side of him justice here. Also I’m very happy that we got two chapters up for this story in the past month, I would say that’s a good accomplishment given our (okay mostly my) track record of not updating for months(?) at a time. Anyway hope you all enjoyed this chapter!  
> ^^^  
> This chapter was so difficult to write! I think I trashed and rewrote it at least three times before finalizing it (and I'm still not completely satisfied!) but I hope you all enjoy it! This chapter is supposed to be the major connecting point to where things kind of start branching off for the final chapters of this story, so brace yourselves for a bumpy ride! Thanks again to all of you who read and leave kudos or comments, it means the world to us!


	9. The Fourth of July

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Parties and angst. Angst and confrontations. Confrontations and more angst.

The night of the fireworks snuck up on my peaceful streak of lazy days and stress-free Netflix marathons to hit me like a freight train. Deep down, I dreaded this night more than anything out of fear; this could either be the night that everything officially fell apart, or a night that would be shockingly uneventful. Of course, I’m hoping for the latter, but I can’t afford to let my guard down.

Marco and I sit on the far-right corner of the blue blanket we’ve brought with us, situated near the center of the park and in perfect view for the fireworks display that was planned to start at nine. To get the perfect spot, we always come at seven and hang around until the show starts.

Surprisingly, Bert and Reiner share the blanket with us in casual conversation with one another, cuddling as they normally do. Neither me nor Marco make any comments about it, and greet the others when they find us in the park.

Eren, Mikasa, and Armin come with a blanket of their own that they lay out next to ours before they chat with the rest of us. Sasha comes on her own and sits beside me, but strategically avoids both Connie and Thomas when he shows up with Mina.

I notice how everyone has arranged themselves on the blankets to avoid one another, and Marco shares a concerned glance with me before turning to speak with Thomas. I keep Sasha occupied the best I can, chatting with her about trivial things during our wait and hoping that she doesn’t feel too stressed being here; she doesn’t seem to be too stiff around us, but then again, Sasha has always been a great actress. She could easily be panicking, which I would imagine, but with strains between Connie, along with Thomas in such close proximity again…there wasn’t anything we could do.

Looking at Armin and Eren, I honestly can’t say that I know what’s going on between them either. The two are acting as usual, if not cautious, around Mikasa. I assume that she doesn’t know about their relationship, and they were trying their best to keep it that way, but for what? To protect her feelings? Eren’s known since we were kids that Mikasa was head-over-heels in love with him, and the bastard never had the guts to tell her how he truly felt. Instead, over the past years he’s been giving her false hope like there was a chance he’d change his mind.

 

God, how did things manage to get so complicated? It used to be so simple when we were kids; we’d fight and then we’d get over it. We didn’t care about things like love or relationships, and we sure as hell didn’t let it get between us. I imagine falling in love is like quicksand. The second you dip your foot in, you can only get sucked deeper and deeper into the emotions and stress that come with it; you sure as hell won’t be able to get out of it easily either. 

Although I can’t say that I’ve ever been love, I’ve just been fooled by the idea of it. I made a rule for myself to help me get through the rest of my high school career and into college: don’t fall in love with your friends. It makes things a thousand times more complicated, and it’s not worth the damage that’s caused from it.

Connie’s obsessive crush has worn me out. I’m tired of hearing about troubles with love, especially when there’s nothing I can do about it. Connie blew his chance with Sasha when he had it. He broke her heart because he was afraid of commitment. I mean Jesus, we’re in high school! It’s not the end of the world and you don’t have to marry the people you date, thank God, but was that the real excuse for him backing out?

As the park fills up with families and couples, I can feel my general patience wearing thin. The sooner these fireworks are over, the sooner I can go to bed and try to forget that any of this is happening. I can hope that things straighten themselves out on their own, but I’m not naïve enough to believe that it’ll actually happen.

 

The first round of fireworks shoot up into the dark, exploding overhead in a brilliant array of red and gold before transitioning to green and purple, earning the amazed rounds of “oohs” and “aahs” throughout the park in return.

Normally, I’d watch the fireworks with that dumb, slack-jawed expression on my face as I watched the lights bloom over the trees. Tonight, I doubt my face is showing anything; I’m simply seeing rather than being in the moment. This might be a sign of growing up, but the fireworks don’t feel the same as they used to. There’s no more childlike wonder or the whole-hearted joy that came with each pattern in the night sky.

I look over my shoulder to watch Marco instead, and I’m slightly taken aback.

He watches the fireworks as though he’s entranced by the fleeting colors, but the look in his eyes is so sad that it makes my heart falter. It’s almost like watching the fireworks put him in physical pain, hands twisted into the blanket with a broken-hearted expression that seemed to be reserved for the sky alone. It was too dark for me to tell whether he was crying or not, but the reflection in his eyes told a story of their own.

I wonder if he’s thinking along the same lines as me. No doubt this mess has been affecting him more than me; he’s had the heavy truth of both sides, and Marco’s always hated playing the middle man in these types of situations. It was all just unnecessary stress, and the guy always did his best to make everything have a positive outcome. He was probably frustrated that his efforts weren’t getting results, or at least the results that he desired.

I knew this night would be terrible. I was uneasy the entire ride here, anxiety bubbling in my stomach like I was about to be sick. Why didn’t I listen to my hunch?

 

“The fireworks are so pretty every year…” Sasha’s voice breaks the silence with a melancholic tone of her own, her wide eyes trained on the starless sky. “It’s a shame they come and go so quickly, you barely have the chance to register it.”

“Sounds kinda like Jean’s sex life.” Eren snickers.

He saw the opening and he took it.

Unfortunately for him, Eren picked the worst possible time to start shit with me. The second he opened his mouth I could feel my anger crackle to life. Last time I saw him I thought we were cool, but I shouldn’t have expected it to last.

“What the fuck did you say?” I snarl back.

“Don’t pretend like it isn’t true. You and Hitch were a thing for what, a week?” Eren leans back on his arms, ignoring the dark looks Mikasa and Armin shoot him.

“Fuck you Eren you know it was longer than a fucking week!” 

“Jean, language…” Armin cast a weary glance at the young families around us, some of whom were staring at us.

Like I give a fuck.

 

I’m tired of being in this stupid park pretending to be fine and dandy with everyone when everything was actually exploding between us instead of the fireworks in the sky. Things were not fine, my humor left before I even stepped foot in the park, and now Eren was trying to bring up Hitch, _of all people?!_

“Why can’t you drop it Eren? It’s over! It was over a long time ago!” If only my lethal glare was enough to shut him up; my hostility only makes Eren excited.

His shit-eating grin pisses me off more than I thought it could.

“November was a long time ago?”

The finale signals the official end of my patience in an eerie eruption above us. Without a thought going through my head, I lurch across the blankets, spilling sodas and cups of water in my wake.

When I realize what I’m doing, I notice that I’m going for his face, which isn’t surprising considering I want to fucking _choke him to death_.

Before I can do so, a firm hand grabs me by the arm and yanks me back. At first, I think it’s Reiner who pulls me back into place with brute force, but when I turn my head I’m surprised to see Marco.

And he’s furious.

“Jean what the hell is wrong with you?” he demands as he pulls me to my feet.

“Clearly I’m trying to kill him!” I snap and yank my arm back. I know that everyone is staring at us; even my friends give me matching looks of shock as if my outburst were completely unpredictable. 

“Someone’s touchy about old Hitchy.” Eren watches us and whistles in my direction. “This is a family space, Jean. I think you need to cool off.”

“Enough Eren!” Marco’s sharp response manages to force Eren into silence.

I don’t have time to be amused by the surprised look on his face; Marco’s busy dragging me away from the group and out of the park.

 

“Marco? W-wait! Where are we going?”

“We’re going home.” He lets go of my arm once we get to the fence, and walks ahead of me on the sidewalk. “I think we caused enough of a commotion tonight.”

The loud cracks in the air abruptly come to a stop, followed by the applause from the audience seated behind us. I follow his brisk pace down the sidewalk and let out a long, annoyed sigh.

This certainly isn’t the first time I’ve tried to hit Eren in public, and I doubt it’ll be last. That being said, I can’t exactly gauge how angry Marco is with me right now. After a few minutes of walking, he slides his hands into his pockets and his posture becomes much more relaxed than it was before. That was a good sign.

 

“Have you calmed down yet?” Marco asks without turning to look at me.

I kick a rock ahead of us and watch it bounce off into the grass. “Yeah.”

We walk in silence for a little longer before Marco turns to give me a half-hearted smile.

“You always let Eren get under your skin.”

“You have to admit that what he said was uncalled for. I should’ve hit him in the face.”

“It was uncalled for. It usually is.” Marco shrugs and returns his gaze to the street. “I think there’s just a lot of tension in the group that makes it come out.”

“I know, I’m tired of seeing Connie and Thomas throw each other death glares every five minutes.” I pick up my pace to walk side-by-side with him instead of trailing behind like a lost dog.

“It’s best to keep them separate. As long as Sasha’s involved, that’s the way it’s going to be.”

“It’s so stupid. Everyone fighting and stressing over love and relationships is such a waste of energy. And it makes everyone else miserable. That’s why there’s The Rule.”

Marco throws me a quizzical look. “The Rule? What’s that?”

I tilt my head towards the dark sky and narrow my eyes. “Never fall in love with your friends. It’s the worst thing you can possibly do to yourself.”

 

I don’t realize Marco’s stopped walking until I’m a few feet ahead at the crosswalk and he’s no longer beside me. Confused, I turn around to see what the fuck is taking him so long.

When he finally reaches my side, he seems to be lost in thought.

“You’re probably right.” When he speaks, his voice is hollow, and now it’s my turn to falter at the corner. He continues without me, and I don’t expect him to stop or wait for me. The rest of the walk home is quiet and a little ominous in the dark, but Marco and I return to our respective homes with only a goodnight uttered between us.

  

 

* * *

 

 

Days go by with little to no significance. When I’m not spending time in my room alone and on my computer, I’m hanging out with my mom. Turns out she isn’t so lame after all; we do some painless shopping and see a couple of movies together, all while avoiding the topic of “when is dad coming home?”

I haven’t heard from Marco since the Fourth, and that was over a week ago. I don’t think too much of it, but when I check my snapchat I notice that Marco’s story is full of Mina and Thomas hanging around the campsite I know they tend to frequent. Thomas waves a stick in the air, shirtless and clearly drunk, claiming that his family’s camper is his castle with Mina cackling in the background. Thomas’s story consists of Marco circling the bonfire with a shirt tied around his head doing some freaky dance with Mina.

What the fuck?

“Jean…” Mom’s warning makes me realize I’d spoken aloud again, in the middle of lunch at a packed restaurant.

“Sorry.”

Marco disappears off the radar to go camping with Mina and Thomas? I don’t know why I’m surprised, but it would have been nice to have a heads-up. Who knew what they were up to at that shitty campsite. That place had wolves. And raccoons.

As I exit out of snapchat, I notice that I got a message from Reiner asking for me to come over and help him deal with Sasha before “he found his dad’s gun and put an end to it all”.

I roll my eyes at the dramatic text before telling him I’ll be right over after I finish lunch. The last thing I want to be doing is dealing with more problems, but I feel bad for the poor guy. 

 

 

 

By the time I reach Reiner’s house, it appears that Sasha’s finally stopped crying. She blows her nose with the tissue box Reiner’s given her, and gives me a small smile.

“Hi Jeanbo.”

“Hey Sash, why the ugly face?”

Reiner pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs at my entrance. I ignore him and give Sasha a light pat on the head before dropping into a nearby armchair.

“What’re you two up to?”

Reiner scratches the back of his head and sinks into the couch. “Talking about our feelings as usual.”

“Oh. Great…”

“I just don’t know what to do anymore. I love Thomas of course, but things haven’t been great and you know Connie and I…we can’t…ugh I just don’t know!”

“Do you want to give Connie a second chance?” Reiner drops his head into his hand and levels his gaze to Sasha’s.

Sasha blinks back at him. “That’s not...”

“Yes or no.” 

Sasha wrinkles her nose in frustration as she runs it over in her head. “Yeah, I do. But like I said, I think I should work out things with Thomas…”

“It’s not about what you think you should do, it’s about what you want to do Sash.” Reiner reaches for his water, only to turn it in his hands rather than drink it. “What will make you happy?”

The question proves to be difficult for her to answer right away; I have nothing to say, as Reiner’s turning into the mom-friend again and seemed to be handling things perfectly fine without my help. Why did I have to be here again?

Reiner takes a few gulps and clears his throat.

“I’ll tell you what Sasha,” he sets the cup down and directs his attention back to her, “why did you start wearing dresses and make-up after you started dating Thomas?”

“He said I looked pretty when I did, so I thought…”

Reiner gestures to his eyes with a sad smile. In confusion, Sasha mimics him to notice that her tears left make-up running down her face.

 “Honestly, it isn’t like you at all, so why force yourself? You don’t have to be someone you aren’t.”

Sasha dabs at the smeared mascara on her cheeks and nods when fresh tears start to make their appearance.

“I…” Sasha picks up her phone and stands up. “I think I know what I have to do.” She gives me and Reiner a smile before leaving out the front door. We watch her go in mild curiosity, and as she climbs into her car, Reiner turns to look at me.

“What’s on your mind?”

I mentally curse Reiner’s perceptive nature. He always manages to pick up on when things aren’t right, and while it can be helpful it can also be annoying as all hell. Knowing that he’s going to push me, I decide to play into his attempt.

“Have you seen Marco’s story on snapchat?”

“The one where he’s with Mina and Thomas? What about it?” Reiner raises an eyebrow.

“…did he tell you he was going out with them?”

Reiner shakes his head and proceeds to finish his water. “Let me guess, he didn’t say anything to you about it and you’re wondering why.”

Okay…I guess that’s pretty obvious. Of course I wonder why, it isn’t like him to just vanish without saying anything. It’s not that much of a big deal, but it still makes me worry and the way Reiner phrases it makes me sound like an annoying pest. 

“I was worried since I hadn’t heard from him in a while, that’s all.”

Reiner makes an affirming grunt. “That’s fine and all, but you have to give him space. Does Marco need you to sign his permission slip before he goes out?”

“No, of course not! It’s just…” I trail off and wonder why I should even bother answering him. “Forget it, I’ll talk to you later.”

Reiner doesn’t try to stop me when I leave. “Yeah, see you later.”

I storm out of his house and back to my car. My only desire is to get far, far away from Reiner’s house and back into the safety and comfort of my own. As I speed down the roads towards home I realize that I’m more angry than annoyed. Reiner called me over there for a reason, and it sure as hell wasn’t to comfort Sasha for him. Clearly he could do that on his own. Did he ask me over just so he could call me out? And if he did, how the hell would he know that I’d be upset? It didn’t make sense.

I didn’t control Marco’s life. I never made it look as if I did. Marco could do whatever the hell he wanted, and it had nothing to do with me. I don’t care that he’s with Mina and Thomas, I care because he didn’t say anything. It wasn’t complicated.

It was just stupid.

 

 

 

Marco returns from his camping trip the next day, and the only indication I receive aside from social media is a text message asking how my weekend was and telling me what time his bonfire party would start.

“Assuming I go.” I mutter as I exit out the message with a heavy sigh.

“Is that you hinting that you don’t want to go? Don’t you miss him?” Mom stands behind the couch, her fingers intertwined in my hair as she massages in a new product. I tried fighting her about it, but gave up after a while because damn this woman can be persistent. I didn’t even pay attention when she told me what it was supposed to do, but I assume it has something to do with making it look like an acceptable hairstyle.

“Weren’t you with Sheila yesterday?”

My mom yanks out a knot and I hiss at her.

“Don’t change the subject.” Mom orders and her touch becomes gentle again. “Although you two spend a lot of time together, some time apart isn’t necessarily a bad thing.”

I blow my hair out of my face with a huff and give Marco a generic response.

“Are you two going to be at the bonfire?” I tilt my head to look up at Mom.

Her eyes widen in minute horror. “Oh goodness no. I don’t want to be anywhere near a teenage gathering.”

“You’d blend in just fine.”

“Thanks but no thanks.”

I hum at her response, tapping my phone against my chest as I consider whether I actually want to go out tonight.

I’m almost positive Mom can read my mind.

“You should go honey.” Mom smooths out my hair and pats me on the head as she walks away. “You might have fun.”

I pick up on her key word “might”.

It wouldn’t be so bad if I went for an hour or two. Considering I live across the street there’s little to no effort needed in going and coming home. It also seemed like everyone was going to be there, so it would be weird if I didn’t show…

I glance at the clock. Six hours until the party’s supposed to start, which means plenty of time for a nap. I should probably stop sleeping to avoid stress.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Guess what? I overslept.

 

I snap awake at eight-thirty; half an hour after the party started and confused as all hell. My mom didn’t bother to wake me up and the silent house suggests she and Sheila went out tonight.

I jump into a change of clothes and run across the street towards the throbbing music emanating from Marco’s backyard. The sound of a lot of voices makes me slow my pace as I navigate the side-path that leads to the gated entrance, and I notice that there’s a bunch of unfamiliar faces. Well, I recognize them from school, but I’m not able to put a name to any faces.

Did I walk into the right yard?

“Jean!” Connie jumps me, nearly spilling his drink on me in doing so. “You finally showed!”

“I’m only half an hour late…”

“Yeah well things were popping since eight! Crazy right?”

I scan the crowd for someone I actually know. “Who are these people?” 

“Mina and Thomas did an invite and a bunch of people showed! It’s nothing crazy, no booze or anything, but I guess they were bored.” 

“Oh…” I would hope it was booze-free; if Mom and Sheila came home to this they would slaughter us both. What was Marco thinking?

“Where is the host?” I ask.

“Kitchen! Come on, only friends are allowed inside.” Connie guides me through the crowd and through the sliding glass doors like we’re some sort of VIP. I instantly see Sasha and Mikasa chatting at the island counters alongside Betholdt and Thomas.

“Jeanbo!” Sasha cheers as soon as she sees me, and Mikasa gives me a friendly wave hello. I return the gesture and find a place against the wall with Connie.

 

A few moments later, Marco emerges from the hallway with Mina, and his eyes lock with mine automatically.

“Hey Jean!” he pulls me into a hug before leaning back to smirk at me. “You fell asleep, didn’t you?" 

I click my tongue at his accuracy and my eyes stray again to the backyard.

“Quite the rager you’re throwing tonight.”

Marco follows my gaze and lets out a laugh that sounds a little nervous. “Yeah, that happened.”

I bet it was Mina’s idea to blow things out of proportion. I wouldn’t doubt it, the girl seems to be having the time of her life dashing in and out of the crowds of people.

Part of me wants to be dramatic and make a scene with the whole, _what would your mother think?_ But honestly, Marco knows better than I do what’s really going on.

“How was your trip?” I wonder if he can detect the bitterness in my voice.

He does.

“It was fun! We didn’t do much though, I got a bunch of mosquito bites…” he trails off and scratches his arm absent-mindedly before meeting my gaze. “Sorry I forgot to tell you.”

“Right…”

“Marco!” Thomas waves him over from the other side of the room. “Come here!”

And that signaled the end of our conversation.

 

I spend the majority of my time indoors, bouncing from one conversation to the other with everyone just so I can say that I was sociable, yet somehow I don’t speak to Marco again for the entire four hours I’m there. It’s like every time I get too close, he moves somewhere else, or he disappears for an hour.

Is he avoiding me?

What was the point of inviting me to this stupid party if he was only going to say hello to me and leave? When I do see him, he avoids looking in my general direction altogether; even Mina throws me a dirty glare from time to time.

I don’t have to be a rocket scientist to see that something is wrong.

I could feel it the moment I dreaded the idea of walking over to Marco’s house.

There has never been a moment where I didn’t feel comfortable in his home, except for today, and I don’t even bother trying to say goodbye to him when I leave. The crowd has thinned out and the music is quieter, but none of that matters to me as I shrug my hands into my pockets while I cross the street. My side of the block is nice and peaceful, and I’m greeted by a dark and silent house when I shut the door and return to my room.

I crawl into my bed and roll towards the wall, curling into a ball as I scroll through my phone.

 

>>>From: Mother

Is it safe to come home yet?

 

I roll my eyes in the dark. If you want to party with some kids, be my guest.

 

>>>To: Mother

No, I’d give it another hour

 

>>>From: Mother

Are you still there? How is Marco?

 

>>>To: Mother

No I left. I’m at home

 

Her lack of response makes me drop my phone onto the bed with a huff. I close my eyes and drift off until my phone buzzes again. I crack an eye open in time to see Reiner’s name flash across the screen, and I open it with a frown. 

“Let’s go to the beach…” I read the title aloud, but the Nicki Minaj lyrics are lost on my monotone as I skim through the new group chat.

I’m tired of my friends planning outings in an attempt to pretend like everything’s okay. I wore out my social need for at least the rest of the month, so sorry Reiner but I’m going to have to pass on that invitation.

I mute the notifications and bury myself in blankets for the rest of the night.

I sleep late into the afternoon, somehow managing to miss Connie’s eight calls and Reiner’s barrage of text messages. Rolling into the center of my bed, I scroll through the chat only to tell them that I’m too sick to go before leaving the chat altogether.

Maybe they’ll get the message.

 

I know it isn’t good to shut down on yourself and wallow in anguish, but it’s one of the few things I’m good at. I might have a nice amount of friends, but I am in no way an extrovert; all of these close proximity hangouts tire me out to the point where I have to start ignoring my friends altogether.

I have things to be worried about.

For example, I’ve clearly done something wrong. Otherwise, Marco wouldn’t be avoiding me. This could all be a figment of my imagination and there’s actually nothing wrong, but that’s fairly unlikely in this case. So what did I do?

As I squint up at my ceiling fan, nothing comes to mind. He was annoyed at me for jumping at Eren during the fireworks, but was that enough to stop him from talking to me?

Doubt it.

Summer was coming to an end before we knew it, and there was nothing worse than conflict before the school year even started. I just wanted to text Marco and ask him what I did so I could apologize and move on with it already! It feels weird to think that the only person who would welcome me into their house with a real smile is Sheila. I can’t just walk over there and storm into his room, nor can I even muster the strength to pick up my phone and punch out a few words to send to him, what the hell is wrong with me?

What the hell is wrong with us?

 

 

 

That evening I scroll through everyone’s snapchats of them at the beach, including Sasha and Connie flipping me off for bailing on them. Well, at least they’re acknowledging each other’s presence again, that’s one good sign. Marco and Thomas do handstands in the water while Eren and Reiner toss a Frisbee faster than Sasha’s phone camera can keep track of. It looks like they’re having fun.

To Mom’s disappointment I skip dinner to go back into my seemingly endless sleep cycle; I shut off my phone and toss it onto the floor to avoid any more outside contact.

 

 

Around noon, Mom wakes me up and nearly forces me out of bed.

“I’m not saying you have to go outside, just leave your room for an hour or two.” She combs my hair with her fingers and gives me a small smile. “Go downstairs you have a visitor.”

“You let them in?” I groan as she pushes me towards the stairs. What part of ‘don’t bother me’ did people not understand these days?

“Jean you know you can’t shut yourself in for the rest of the summer.”

The hell I can.

I get to the base of the stairs mid-argument with her when my eyes land on the person standing in the front door archway, arms crossed and a worried expression in place.

Marco.

 

“He was worried because you weren’t answering your phone.” Mom pats me lightly on the back and spares me an apologetic look before nodding to Marco and disappearing into the kitchen.

I’m at a loss for words.

He can disappear for four days without warning and everything is dandy, but if I shut down for two days it’s a concern? Give me a break.

“Is everything alright Jean?” Marco’s eyebrows knit together in a way I know too well, giving the impression that he has no idea what’s wrong with me.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” No, how could it be?

“You leave the group chats, ignore everyone’s messages and calls, and lock yourself up in your room…you only do that when…” Marco’s voice trails off and he narrows his eyes warily.

“When I’m depressed?”

“…when things aren’t alright.” He finishes with a frown.

I mimic his stance and cross my arms. He’s not the only one who can throw up barriers; I’ve mastered the art years ago, but never did I think I’d have to put them up against my best friend.

“I’m tired of going out all of the time and I wanted to be alone, that’s it.”

“Then you can just say that.” Marco sighs and scuffs a foot on the edge of the carpet. “They would understand.”

“And what about you?”

Marco looks up at my question. “What do you mean?”

“Is everything _alright_ with you?”

Marco blinks at my tone, running through several answers before deciding on which one to use. “Of course.”

This. This tension that’s settling in the air between us is my solid proof. Something is _wrong_. So, so wrong that it makes my hands curl up into fists at my sides and makes me want to start crying. This encounter isn’t comfortable in the slightest, and the distance Marco keeps between us is proof that it isn’t just in my head.

Although he tries to act the same, I can see that he’s putting on a front. The hard expression, the set of his jaw; I know him too well for either of us to lie to one another. Yet here we are, trying to.

“Well if you say you’re alright, I won’t bother you.” Marco sounds like he’s given up, and proceeds to let himself out.

That’s it?

 

I follow him to the door, but hold it open so it doesn’t close. I can feel the flickers of anger again, which is surprising considering I haven’t felt anything in quite some time.

“Look, Marco.”

Marco pauses halfway down my porch steps to turn around and look at me.

“Whatever I did wrong, you have to tell me what it was or I’m never going to know.”

He frowns at my comment. “What are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

Marco takes a few steps back up the porch to look me in the eyes. “I actually don’t.”

I notice how his tone of voice shifts. Not only to defensive, but to a little more hostile than he’s ever been.

I let out a tired sigh and rest my body weight on the door.

“I can’t apologize if I don’t know what I’ve done wrong, and I hate it when you’re mad at me.”

He shakes his head. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

What a load of bullshit…

“Then why are you avoiding me?” I step farther out onto the porch involuntarily, and the sun nearly blinds me. Man, I need to start going outside more often…

“I’m not avoiding you.”

It feels like I’m treading water when I want to swim. No matter how hard I try, I’m not going anywhere, and it’s only a matter of time before I give up trying to meet Marco halfway. There’s only so much I can do, and I don’t have the energy to float any longer.

“Seriously?” I slap a hand to my forehead and groan, frustrated. “You know I can’t handle your fucking passive-aggressive-ass treatment Marco! What the hell is wrong with you? Why won’t you tell me?”

“Who’s passive-aggressive?” he snaps back. “Do you want there to be a problem?”

“It would make things a hell of a lot easier!”

“Well, sorry to disappoint.” Marco turns away and clears the rest of the stairs. “You’ll get over it.”

“That’s classic coming from the one giving me the silent treatment!”

“I’m the passive-aggressive asshole, aren’t I?” he shouts back, and I don’t register that he swore until after I yell back at him as he crosses the street.

“At least you know!”

I slam the door behind me and glare at the floor as if I could punch holes into it with my eyes alone.

 

“Well that sounded like a disaster.” Mom cautiously emerges from the kitchen with a wary look. “I’m assuming you two didn’t make up?” 

The look I shoot her shuts down any other possible questions and I storm past her to return to my room.

Un-fucking-believable.

Not only did I have to talk to Marco today, I managed to make things worse. If that was possible. Clearly, it was.

I also have nothing to base it on. I don’t know what I did or how to fix it. Who knows if I can even fix it. It’s all so unnecessary and confusing that it doesn’t feel real, like I’m trapped in some kind of a nightmare or stepped on an invisible mine.

Why is this happening to me?

Marco and I never fight. _Never._

But this…this was the closest to a fight we’ve ever gotten.

I have no problem admitting that I’m wrong and apologizing, even if I don’t know what I did!

As I slam the door to my room, our argument plays on repeat in my head; even when I hide under my comforter Marco’s voice echoes through my room like a curse.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Music fills the house with a mellow rhythm as I slice through the peppers in front of me. I don’t remember why I’m cooking, nor what I plan on making, but I keep the knife moving in my hands to the beat the best I can. 

Red cups litter the counter in front of me, along with empty bottles of booze that I assume are from my friends. I don’t bother on cleaning it up; I focus on the movement of my hands instead. Smooth cuts, nice rhythm. Chop, slide, chop, slide.

Whatever party I had, it was long over by now. The house was empty, and the only noise came from the speaker in the window.

Or so I thought.

Someone wraps their arms around my waist from behind in a warm hug, but I’m not surprised.

I smile at the warmth and continue to cut what’s in front of me.

“What’re you making?” Marco’s breath tickles the back of my neck when he speaks, and I can feel his nose brush across my skin.

“Stir-fry.” Is my natural response. Oh, that makes sense.

“Do you have to make it now?” his hand covers mine and slowly loosens my grip until the knife clatters on the counter.

I humor him and turn around in his embrace. I take in his mischievous expression and warm gaze like it’s the last time I’ll see it.

“You’re not mad at me?”

Marco gives me a perfect, irresistible smile. “How could I be mad at you Jean?”

“Thank God.” I pull him closer to trace the features of his face. The defined cheekbones, his long and perfect eyelashes, all the way to his full, soft lips. My fingers linger on his mouth, and I feel a devious smile of my own make its appearance as Marco’s eyes burn with undeniable hunger. He’s waiting; biding his time until I made the first move.

His hands push up the hem of my shirt, roaming my sides and across my stomach as we stand in the middle of the kitchen, trapped in our own small world. His touch leaves a burning sensation on my skin, and it’s addicting beyond belief. It makes me press my lips to his as quickly as my body allows me to, and Marco’s grip tightens as he crushes us together.

It’s as if desperation fuels the kiss we share; even as Marco’s tongue explores the inside of my mouth, he isn’t close enough. His hands aren’t touching enough of me, and I can’t hold enough of him. I wrestle the shirt up and over his head and he nearly tears off mine so we can kiss again, and holy shit if this isn’t the hottest thing we’ve ever done...

I stop thinking; my mind short-circuits and my body moves on autopilot like I have no say in the matter anymore, which is fine by me. I trace the muscles along Marco’s torso, and my hands rise and fall with every ragged breath he draws into his body between our kisses. I unzip his pants and push them down so I can play with the waistband of his boxer-briefs.

I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t notice the fucking weapon he was hiding in them.

Marco follows my lead, unzipping my shorts and shoving them down so he can pin me against the counter with his body. I barely feel my head hit the cabinets and I spread my legs on command when Marco nudges his leg between them. His hands cup my ass perfectly, and I can’t help but arch into him when he squeezes. I bury one hand in his hair and pull him into another deep kiss as my other hand dares to reach into his underwear.

He jerks under my touch with a groan and grinds his thigh into my groin. I gasp at the sparks that shoot through my system and tease him into doing it again.

I couldn’t care less if someone walked in on us at this moment. Right now, it was just me and him, and I didn’t want it to end.

Before I know it, I’m pulling down Marco’s underwear and tracing the freckles on the top of his thighs while he pulls mine down as quickly as his lust-filled mind can.

“ _Jean…_ ” his voice comes out as a whine just before he thrusts against me. The small of my back hits the edge of the counter, and I let out a pained hiss as I latch onto him. His moans make me lose every ounce of control I have left, and heat pools into the base of my stomach as we press our erections together.

“God Marco, harder!”

I don’t know why I would tell him that, considering every thrust he gives me pounds me into the counter and echoes through the kitchen as well as what I assume the rest of the house.

That, and I’m aware that I’m embarrassingly loud.

Marco’s hand slides between us in a corkscrew motion that drives me crazy; my breath hitches with every stroke, and moaning Marco’s name only makes him speed up the pace.

And it’s still not enough.

He bends me over the island counter and moves to stand behind me. I’m only vaguely aware of what he’s planning to do, but whatever reservations I would’ve had evaporate when he sucks on the back of my neck. Marco traces the shaking muscles in my abdomen before continuing to give me slow, but deliberate pumps and I can only flatten myself on the marble countertop as I struggle to breathe in a normal rhythm.

“Is this really okay?” he whispers against my ear and I shudder involuntarily at the feeling.

“God Marco hurry up…” I push back against him and bite my lip in hungry anticipation. I’ve never wanted something so badly in my life, and the simple thought that I was about to get it made me shake against him.

Marco’s hands find a firm grip on my hips and he positions himself between my legs while he runs a finger down my spinal cord. Every heartbeat sends fire coursing through my body to the point where it’s almost painful to draw oxygen into my lungs. I close my eyes in both anticipation and pleasure as I feel him push against me, and it’s the one thing I crave so much that my nails curl against the surface under me, _God_ …

 

I jolt awake in a cold sweat, alone in my room.

I tear the blankets off my bed and sit up as I try, unsuccessfully, to calm down my breathing. I draw in harsh, dry gasps that scratch my throat more than help me.

“No…no, no no no….” I hunch over and push my hair back against my head. I ignore the sun filtering through the blinds and squeeze my eyes shut, hoping I can push as much of that dream out of my head as I can. 

This is bad.

When I open my eyes, I can see my hands are shaking.

It’s…not normal to dream about having sex with your best friend, is it? To do it twice, at that.

I chuck one of my pillows across the room in frustration. It hits my desk and knocks over the pencil holder along with a box of Kleenex.

This wasn’t fair.

I don’t understand what this means. Do I like him more than what I initially thought? Or is the separation stressing me out?

Stressing me out to the point where I want to fuck him? Get a grip Jean!

I get out of bed and go straight for the shower. Not only am I sticky, I feel sick to my stomach.

I want the water to wash me down the drain with it to end my misery. With my forehead pressed against the tiles I focus on breathing in gulps of air, praying I can at least throw up to feel better. My previous lack of appetite proves to make this task impossible, so I have to stand under the hot spray until I find the ability to leave it before I pass out.

When I head back to my room, I realize a note had been slipped under my door. Mom went out for the day and planned on coming back in the evening. “Behave” she says.

I let out a dry laugh as I toss my towel on the floor and get dressed. As soon as I pull up my pants, the doorbell rings.

A growl bubbles in my chest at the thought of dealing with something else. I would die if it was Marco. I’d probably cry if it was my mom, which was highly unlikely considering she was probably long gone.

The surprise visitor turns out to be Connie.

“Thank god you’re alive.” He pushes his way inside and kicks off his shoes as he steps into the living room.

Ugh.

Things are happening too quickly.

I’m used to uneventful days that consist of me lying in bed and feeling sad; where everything is still calm and makes enough sense for me to live with it. Instead I’m teetering between a panic attack, puking in front of Connie, and screaming out loud while pulling my hair out. My mind is running over every aspect of the dream as if I overlooked something. I’m still worrying if deep down Marco hates me. I’m worrying whether my friends are angry at me. I’m worrying if Connie can see the way I’m shaking, but trying so hard to cover it up.

Connie is horrible with timing.

To make it worse, he’s talking. He’s been talking this entire time, but I can’t hear him; I can see his lips moving and he’s gesturing with his hands, but words aren’t coming out.

I nod like I’m listening to him and move to sit in one of the armchairs before my body gives out on me. Little by little, I’m able to crawl back into the conversation in time to make sense of it.

“…and boy did Ymir get everyone messed up. Sasha and I found a cave by the water and there was a shit ton of sea urchins inside, dude you would have loved it! We could make it a secret hideout and solve mysteries and stuff in there, that’s how big it was!”

“Oh cool…” So he’s talking about the beach trip. He drones on and on about every little detail of the trip, which gives me enough time to focus on my breathing and flex my muscles so I don’t get stiff sitting with my nails digging into the chair like I’m holding on for dear life. I think Connie can tell I’m not in a talking mood, so he doesn’t ask me questions for most of the time.

“Actually, I also came over to tell you that me and Sasha officially made up.” Connie gives me a shy smile and scratches the back of his head. “She said she was willing to give me a second chance, as long as we take it slow. She broke up with Thomas the other day.”

Should’ve seen that one coming, Jean.

“That’s great.” Geez, the amount of effort it takes me to smile back at him makes my face feel like it’s going to crack apart. I want to be happy for him, I really do, but I can’t conjure any sort of an emotion to offer him. I can only hope he buys into my fake congratulations.

 

As Connie continues on, my mind travels back to the phantom touches Marco left behind in my dream. It was all too real to forget that easily; the air against the back of my neck, his hands trailing down my sides…that was _real_. And everything I felt in that dream was intense and raw, nothing like I’ve ever felt before and as much as I hate to admit it, I woke up right before the moment I wanted the most.

And that was weird.

Yeah, I have a lot of pent-up sexual desires, but _reflecting it onto Marco?_

Even thinking about it makes me break into a sweat and raises the goosebumps on my arms. Hell, this was a craving. It’s stronger than it was before, where I could ignore it and push it to the crevices of my mind, but now it feels worse. Not only do I want to hug Marco and apologize, I want to grab him and kiss him again like we did that stupid night in the bathroom. I want him to tell me that he isn’t angry; I just want to see him, but with things the way they are now we’d only end up screaming at each other.

“Jean are you listening to me?”

“Huh?” I stop chewing on my thumbnail and attempt to give Connie my full attention. “Sorry, what?”

Connie sighs and nearly drops his head into his hands.

“I said, what’s up with you and Marco these days? You guys don’t speak, and Marco seems to be a lot more…I dunno, down lately?”

I wish I fucking knew, but talking about it will only make the hole grow larger.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Eh…” Connie wrinkles his nose. “Well, whatever it is it must be stupid. You two need to get over it and make amends already. It’s fuckin’ weird not seeing you two together twenty-four-seven.”

“I tried to make amends.” I focus on the slight tremble in my hands until I can get them to stop altogether. “Didn’t work.”

“Marco, holding grudges? No way.”

I shake my head and let out a singular, humorless laugh. “Tell me about it.”

“Well, I know you’re going to say no, but I really came here because I’m on a mission.” Connie abruptly stands before walking over to pull me to my feet. “It’s nothing big, don’t worry. Reiner just wants you to come sit with him in his backyard for a while.”

I try to swallow the dread before it snakes its way back up my throat.

“You were right, my answer is no. I’m not going.”

“Come on Jean, when was the last time you stepped outside?”

I move away from him. “That information is irrelevant.”

“The fuck it is! You’re pale enough as it is!” Connie blows out a breath and softens his tone. “Please? After this we’ll stop bothering you.”

“Why couldn’t Reiner come here?”

“He knew you wouldn’t want to go outside. The point of the trip is to get you out of your house.” Connie takes my hand and slowly drags me to the front door.

I know this is a trap. I can _smell_ it, but for some reason I don’t fight him anymore on the subject. I let him drive me to Reiner’s house and I follow him into Reiner’s backyard.

 

There are many things I hate in this world. Some are trivial, and some are a big deal. For one, I hate liars. I understand that sometimes lying is necessary to get by, considering I do it often myself but for justifiable reasons. I don’t lie about big things. I don’t lie to hurt other people. I also can’t stand it when people push someone into a corner. It’s like trapping the wild animal that desperately wants to escape. You can see that it’s scared, yet you continue to torment it until it attacks. It’s the same with people, and it’s the same with me. I’m fairly good at controlling and even hiding my anxiety, but when you trap me in a glass box and hope for positive results…nothing good comes from it.

As soon as I step into the yard I feel the glass doors slam shut around me, and all eyes fall on me. It’s like a circle of death around the fire pit that hasn’t even been lit, and my flight reflex has hit its maximum limit.

Sasha, Reiner, Bertholdt, Armin, Connie, and Marco all form the circle with the remaining chair reserved for me.

Did I mention that I hate confrontation?

“Thanks for joining us Jean, have a seat.” Reiner gestures to the chair and my eyes land on it like it’s a bear trap. The last thing I want to do is sit down.

“What is this?” I’m surprised my voice doesn’t shake when I speak.

I don’t miss the way Reiner’s eyes flit to Marco before back to me.

“Just a small chat.”

Those four words drop a rock in the pit of my stomach. When I look at Marco, he seems just as pissed as I am to be here, which probably means he was tricked into coming to Reiner’s place too.  

They initiated this shit so we could “talk it out” and come to a miraculous understanding?

“ _There’s nothing to chat about_.”

Marco and I glance at each other in reserved shock when we speak in unison. My eyes narrow at the lie and he averts his gaze with an annoyed sigh.

I had a feeling that was how it was going to be.

“Clearly you two have some unresolved issues that need to be addressed.” Reiner leans back in his chair and hardens his gaze. “So the sooner you two talk about it, the faster this can end.”

“Ask him because I have no idea what it is.” I point at Marco and shake my head. “He doesn’t even want to talk to me.”

“There was never a problem in the first place.” Marco speaks slowly, like he’s explaining something to a child.

“There is obviously a problem.” Bert pinches his nose and sighs. Boy, do I want to call him out on so many things. He and Reiner have been having trouble for the past couple of weeks, who the hell were they to organize someone else’s relationship?

Marco shoots Bert a dark look, which is a rare act on its own.

I refuse to sit down as we go back and forth, getting nowhere as I predicted, and the longer it goes on the deeper I feel my heart sink.

He really doesn’t want to fix this.

He tries his best to keep me at arm’s distance whenever he can, denying any sort of accusation and refusing to give me any other expression aside from indifference. And it hurts.

I’ve hurt Marco’s feelings in the past. Often.

I was a shit-stain who said whatever came to mind and I could be harsh with my words. Sometimes my teasing was too much and he’d start crying, or I’d say something that I automatically regretted and had to spend weeks trying to make it up to him.

Yet in the end, he always forgave me.

Maybe I’ve gotten spoiled.

I’m not used to being on the receiving end of torment, and when it’s by the person you care about the most…well it fucking sucks. I can plead with my eyes as long as I want, but Marco won’t look at me anymore. He won’t talk to me. He won’t listen to me.

But I won’t cry here.

I need to drop my burden now. I can’t keep giving a hundred-and-ten percent to someone who barely wants to give me forty, and I know I’m too tired to keep up this one-sided argument.

 

I turn on my heels and make my way back to the gated exit.

“Jean!” Sasha jumps out of her seat and shouts after me. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going home.” I turn around to give her a sad smile. “Clearly he doesn’t give a fuck about this, so what’s the point?”

Marco’s face briefly contorts into a pained expression. Like my words were too sharp for him to handle.

Well I hope they fucking were.

I don’t wait for a response; I push my way out of the yard and down the sidewalk. Sure, it was a hearty eight blocks home but I could use a good walk to clear my head.

I’m nearly half-way down the block when I hear someone following behind me.

“You really think that I don’t care Jean?!” Marco’s voice travels the distance too well, and I whip my head around to glare at him without slowing my pace.

“You bet the fuck I do!”

“Of all people, you know that I care the most!”

His response forces an ugly laugh from me.

“Whatever Marco, clearly you just want a reason to be mad at me!”

“I need a fucking reason?”

_Oh, he’s mad._

“Scary.” I mutter under my breath. I continue my brisk walk down the block and hope he gives up soon.

“Why do you hate Mina and Thomas so much Jean? And give me a real reason!”

I almost stop dead in my tracks. _Is that what this is about?_

“I hate them because they’re turning you into someone you’re not!” I shout back, and it’s the honest truth. “I think they use you and you’re too nice to see it!”

“I’m not your responsibility!” he sounds closer than I thought he was. “I’m capable of making my own decisions!”

“Even if they’re bad?!”

“You’re one to talk!” Marco’s voice gets louder. “I didn’t complain about Hitch every single time I saw you with her!”

And Hitch makes her appearance in the conversation again. I guess it’s something that can’t be forgotten, even if I try to deny that it happened. I guess Marco’s good at holding grudges after all.

“You hated Hitch just as much as everyone else, don’t play the saint!” I cross the street so I can direct my full attention on him. “You talked shit with everyone else!”

“What did you expect?!”

Honestly, I don’t know what I expected. I think I wanted my friends to tell me that I was making a mistake, but when they did I lashed out and ignored their warnings in the end. I don’t know if I wanted Marco to support me at the time…and if I did it would have been a selfish fucking thing to do.

But I’m not the only one with drama on my hands.

“It’s over! That’s old news Marco!” I pick up my pace and raise my voice so he can hear me over the passing cars. “Aren’t you in love with Mina now anyway? Who gives a fuck about my relationship?!”

Marco’s speed slows ever so slightly.

 

“What if I am?”

Now these four words play a different chord with my heart.

They pull apart everything that I thought I had finally put together, and the heavy breath I mean to pull in comes out a broken sob. Cracks across a dry surface, a fissure between flat land…you can call it what you want, but I can feel myself breaking apart. And it’s all from just four fucking words.

Even if it’s hypothetical…I can’t handle it. I don’t want to consider the possibility that it could be true.

I cough to clear my throat and my voice comes out a scratchy mess. I don’t care if he notices.

“Well I’m so fucking happy for you! I hope you have little freckled pig-tailed babies!”

_How fucking childish can I be?_

I turn the corner and take a different route, and I don’t have to look behind me to know that Marco’s stopped following me. That was it, and the damage was done.

I give in to the crushing weight in my chest and break down for the rest of the walk home. I take the quiet, empty streets so no one can see or hear my ugly sobbing; I consider stopping to sit down and catch my breath, but I know I won’t be able to muster the strength to get back up again. I had finally reached the end of my rope.

And home has never seemed to be so far away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! Another chapter sort of churned out! I think we mentioned this before, but we’re nearing the end of this story, so there will only be a few more chapters. Thank you for your continued support!  
> ^^^  
> *melts into the shadows*


	10. If I Had You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean’s father finally returns from war (lol it’s not actually war don’t worry) and with some helpful prompting, Jean is finally able to face how he really feels. But how will he deal with his feelings, especially when Mina has finally made her move?

The first girl I ever dated was Marco’s friend Hannah.

This was back in eighth grade, when everything was awkward and rushed simply for the attempt of looking cool. I didn’t notice her until I ran into her, literally, during an intense volleyball game in sixth period gym. I was in the zone, dead set on beating Eren and Reiner’s team, when I dove for the ball, which was way out of my range, and collided with one of my teammates. The first thing I noticed was her bright orange hair, and then the wide green eyes framed by darker lashes. Before this encounter, she had never stood out to me in a crowd, but after class I started noticing her in the background of my everyday life. The quiet girl in my psychology class, the girl who sits two lunch tables over, the girl who walks on the opposite side of the street when Marco and I were walking home.

I started getting this weird superstition that she was following me, but that was just a feeling I pushed aside and figured was nothing. When I got a note in my locker, the naïve part of me was convinced that it was from Mikasa and I ran my ass to the baseball field after school, just as the note asked me to, and straight into Hannah’s trap. Okay, it wasn’t a trap, and I feel bad for saying this, but if I had known that the note was from her, I probably wouldn’t have shown up that day.

The confession was quick, quiet, and awkward. I didn’t know what to say as she poured her feelings out for me when I barely knew her name. The worst part was the fact that I lacked the courage to turn her down. I figured maybe if we dated for a while, I could get to know her more and start to like her, that’s how dating worked sometimes, right?

Like I said, I was naïve.

We dated for two months, surprisingly, but nearly every date was painful. I could never understand her sense of humor; I think she just laughed at whatever I said to make me think that I was funny. She was so shy of crowds that I was scared to invite her to parties thinking she’d freak out, but I also knew not inviting her would be rude. Marco didn’t seem to find any issues socializing with her, so I’d leave them together and hope for the best. There were times when I hoped she’d get bored of me and try to break up, but in the end I was the one who had to make the decision. I did it the night after Marco had lectured me about leading people on and nearly yelled at me to stop being selfish for the sake of conserving energy.

I can still see her face in my mind, trying so hard not to cry and forcing a smile before she walked away from me. Yeah, that’s one of the moments I regret the most.

This all led up to how I dealt with my next girlfriend Hitch. Our relationship was even shorter, about a month and a half, but it was the craziest time of my life. Hitch was the complete opposite of Hannah, and the girl was the definition of insane.

I met her at one of Ymir’s parties, where it all started with making out under the deep bass fueled by alcohol and the pulsing lights, only to end with an explosion of fists and screaming.

She was a year older and had big plans for the future. Like Ymir, she wanted to be an artist, and her creativity drew me in more than her beauty. She knew how to manipulate people with her words and always got what she wanted…and at the time I thought that was impressive.

She was a kisser, whether she was happy or angry, and it was sloppy just like our relationship. Making out in hallways, behind the gym, at the bus stop, it didn’t matter to her. And no, it wasn’t the usual nasty lovey-dovey public displays of affection, it was the disgusting mouth sucking that nearly escalates to something much more inappropriate than the usual PDA. She had no shame, cussed like a sailor, and slid her hand down my pants under the dinner table _in front of my mother_ (on several occasions). When she got drunk, which was often, things were more rushed, louder, angrier…I never found out why she was so angry all the time.

I can’t say that I regret losing my virginity to her, but I do have her to thank for all the cuts and scars that appeared on my body in such a short amount of time. I never loved Hitch and she never loved me, it was just a fling with mutual benefits. Temporary. I mean, it’s high school, everyone’s perpetually horny and hyped up, what do you expect?

None of my friends liked her, and God don’t get me started on Marco. Those two were like cats and dogs, nearly a complete replica of me and Mina. Of course, Marco was classier and limited himself to clever sass and a lack of, well, yelling and insults, but there wasn’t a time where those two weren’t fighting. Whenever he or someone else tried to warn me about the trouble I was getting myself into, I ignored them. I thought they were jealous. I thought Marco was “too good” to understand the thrill I got from hanging out with Hitch and her shady friends. Whether we were driving late at night with the top down in her dad’s convertible or smoking weed on the summit, I found a kick out of being risky.

Things with Hitch ended with a bang. To be fair, it began with one too.

My parting words to her may not have been the nicest, but then again she rarely said anything nice to me during our entire relationship. She’d even berate me during sex, so I didn’t feel too bad about it. 

I only felt bad after she pushed me down the stairs.

So, I guess I can say that my only two relationships in my seventeen years haven’t been that great, nor that productive. I never said “I love you”, or had the butterflies like I’d heard about. I never felt longing or dreamed of spending the rest of my life with that person. I never experienced love.

The closest person I’ve ever been with is Marco.

This is where it gets confusing.

Although we’ve spent most of our lives together, I’ve never thought of our bond as something similar to siblings. Yeah, we were both only children, but I never tried to use Marco to fill in a gap within that aspect.

I think these feelings that I can’t push down…the reason why I’m contemplating my life choices and the whole dating issue is because I like him. More than I should as a friend. As a guy.

One dream was enough, but this, this isn’t normal for me. I mean I like girls; I dated Hannah, I had sex with Hitch, I like Mikasa…

Mikasa.

Shit, when was the last time I even thought about Mikasa? I used to draw her all the time with whatever paper I could find and marvel over her beauty in the yearbooks, but I haven’t thought about her in a long time.

Marco has replaced her in my thoughts. He drowns out everything, leaving me sputtering and grasping for clues that aren’t there to tell me why he hates me. I’ve been watching him like he’s the only person in the world and I’ve known him longer than anyone else. So how do I know that I’m not just confusing my feelings for something else?

Ha. What else could these feelings be?

The tingling in my veins, the tightness in my chest, the unsettling of my stomach, the swell of fucking glee I feel whenever I see him…that’s love right? Who am I kidding, it is love. I want to hug him and tangle my hands into his hair so I can pull him close and press our lips together and _fuck_ …

Fuck.

It’s a little late for this.

Marco has Mina around him twenty-four-seven these days and I’ve messed up. I’m sure Marco’s thinking about other things. Things like “Jean’s a fucking idiot”, “when should I ask Mina out”, and “I should go hang out with my friends in the middle of nowhere again”!

Okay I know I’m just moping, but this sucks.

I’ve slept in the same bed with him countless times. When we were kids we probably bathed together once or twice. I’ve seen him naked and it used to never faze me, now it makes me weak in the fucking knees. I see his smiling face every day, but somehow each time feels like the first. It’s not fair; it’s like I can’t even function properly anymore when it comes to him.

This would explain why I’ve hated Mina so much…but shit…if that’s the case, how long have I felt this way? Was it the first time I dreamt of him in a…non-friend sort of way, or was it even before that? When did I start feeling this?

I blame my boner at the pool. Maybe that was my sign? Like I said, I ignore these types of things and hope they never happen again; that leads to my downfall.

The feelings I have towards Mina isn’t hatred, but pure jealousy. I’m jealous at how she demands his attention and gravitates around him like he’s the fucking sun, but that’s just me being territorial. God knows I’ve spent more time with him than anyone aside from his own mother; I had no right to claim Marco as my own.

_I’m not your responsibility._

He was right, I did treat him like a child. I am possessive and over-controlling; I tend to act like I know what I’m doing as if I’ve never been wrong. Yet I’m usually the one who’s wrong. I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life and I’m not even a quarter through it. I treat Marco like he’s the sun, radiating light and energy for me whenever I need it and I take for granted that Marco has a life of his own. We weren’t connected by some invisible string. 

 

It’s not normal for me to have deep thoughts like this so early in the morning.

I’m so desperate to escape my own suffering that I willingly go downstairs and beg Mom to give me something to do. I take out the trash, I wipe the windows, I mop the floors, I vacuum the carpets, I even clean the toilets on both floors.

Mom knows there’s something wrong with me, but she doesn’t try to break the small shield I’ve made for myself. Dad’s coming home today for the first time in months, and there was nothing she craved more today than stability. To pretend, just for one day, that we were normal and everything wasn’t falling apart.

I have no idea what’s going to happen when he comes home. What the hell is he even going to talk about, his hook ups in Mexico when he was supposed to be “working”?

Part of me hates my dad, but I still wonder what exactly spurs on that hate. I don’t have any proof that he’s cheated on my mom, in fact I doubt that he ever has, so why am I so angry at him? I’m lucky I have a dad at all, and I’m reminded of that every day just by seeing Marco.

I manage to do a great job of keeping myself in check until I begin to help Mom fix dinner. She puts me in charge of cutting all the vegetables for the roast she planned on cooking, and as I cut through my stack of carrots and peppers I can’t shake off the déjà vu. Thankfully, we don’t talk much while we work in the kitchen and just focus on our respective duties in comfortable silence. As long as I can keep my knife moving, I can keep going.

I move on to cut the onions Mom left out for me, sighing as the peel doesn’t want to come off one of them. My small noise attracts Mom’s attention, but she quickly goes back to seasoning the meat. She’s on high alert today; to her I probably look like a ticking time bomb. And boy, I am.

I keep my knife swift and precise as I cut the onion into perfect slices, but the stinging in my eyes makes me want to run for dear life.

I hate onions.

They’re the most dangerous vegetable of all, I can’t even see through my tears, which I have to wipe away every other second with my shoulder. It’s easy to understand why Marco’s always hated them so much, it seems to be common logic. Nothing was worth this much suffering.

I notice my cuts are getting more vicious and choppy; I hate the way my mind always strays back to Marco. I hate that Marco’s name alone stirs all of the guilt gnawing at the back of my mind. I hate how that guilt makes me hate myself more than I ever have.

And I hate these goddamn onions.

I haven’t spoken to Marco in over a week, and I know I should be the one to apologize this time. I still can’t say sorry for what I’ve done to make him so angry, and if he doesn’t answer my texts I can only assume he doesn’t want to see or speak to me anymore. 

Once I finish cutting through my first onion I start to realize that it’s not just the onions making me cry anymore.

Mom’s been saying something for the past few minutes about the recipe she found for tonight, but I haven’t been paying enough attention to fully understand what she’s saying. The only thing I can think about is how much I don’t want her to see me break down. I thought I was done. I thought I had cried it out and gotten over it like I do with everything else.

Yet I can feel myself falling apart again.

Marco and I were only having a fight. It wasn’t the end of the world, there wasn’t some tragedy that warranted my tears. I shouldn’t be this fragile.

But if I think about it, a mental breakdown wasn’t completely out of place.

I bottle up everything. The things that I tell myself don’t bother me, bother me. I don’t talk to my friends about it. I don’t talk to a therapist. I ignore and I repress, over and over and over again.

I know my mom does the same thing.

We put up a front that all is fine and chipper, while we’re both emotional wrecks behind closed doors.

When I dated Hitch, I was miserable. Yet I wasn’t miserable enough to break it off right away; like I was addicted to the feeling of being out of control or rebellious, and in the process I hurt myself and the people who worried about me.

I spent my entire junior year stressing about my grades when I acted like I couldn’t have cared less. I pretended like I couldn’t see my parents fighting. Fuck, I’ve obviously been avoiding my feelings towards my best friend.

I should’ve expected things to come crashing down on me sooner rather than later.

The deep breath I try to take comes out as a broken and pathetic sob and my eyes burn as I try to will away the tears that seem to come out of nowhere.

I have to set my knife down and rest my hands on the counter because my tears aren’t stopping, I can’t breathe, and now I’m standing in the middle of my kitchen sobbing over a pile of diced onions that I hate more than anything in the world.

Mom stops talking and rushes to my side. She places a hand on my back, right between my shoulder blades, before pulling me away from my spot at the counter to turn me to face her. I don’t want to look at her; I’m too angry and frustrated to even put what was wrong into words for her, let alone look her in the eye.

Mom knows. She pulls me into a tight hug and runs her fingers through my hair, stroking the baby hairs on the back of my neck with that soothing, motherly affection that makes me start crying harder. It’s like reverting back to a child when your mother comforts you; it’s embarrassing, but it’s also so loving that you melt right into it. 

I wrap my arms around her waist and realize how small she really is in front of me. She holds me as I try to get the tears out, alternating between rubbing and patting my back.

“It’s okay baby, it’s okay.” Mom whispers as we rock back and forth in place, and I can hear the tears in her voice. God, the last thing I wanted to do was make her cry; I keep hurting people without meaning to, why does that happen?

“He hates me.” I don’t realize I’ve said it aloud until Mom pulls my head down to rest on her shoulder.

“Marco could never hate you honey.”

Of course she knows what’s going on. I bet she and Sheila have been talking about this for days. What has Marco been telling his mom? Where did he think we stood in terms of our friendship? How much space did he need between us to be happy? How much longer do I have to wallow in my self-pity and regret until he wants me around again?

I hold on to Mom for a little longer; she’s always had that familiar scent of roses to her that I could never really place. Was it her perfume? Was it shampoo? Who knew, but’s always been there and it’s the only smell that seems to make me feel better, even when I was kid. 

“You two will figure it out, give it time.” She pulls back to look at me. Her bright blue eyes are shining, threatened by tears. I lightly brush away one that tries to run down her cheek.

“Okay.” My voice is a little hoarse, but I still try to offer her a smile.

She pats my hand and mirrors my sad smile. “I’ll finish dinner and call you down when your father gets home, okay?”

I nod before leaving the kitchen to head back up the stairs. I feel worn out, knowing full well if I laid down on my bed I’d go straight to sleep with no intention of getting back up. So instead I situate myself at my desk in front of my laptop. The screen nearly blinds me as it lights up, illuminating the home screen.

You know that saying, “don’t kick me while I’m down” right? Well, this is a fairly similar situation.

I scroll through Facebook for a while, reading but not commenting on statuses, when I get a snapchat from Connie. His story is all about the barbecue Reiner was throwing that I chose not to go to, and I hesitate before opening it. It’s probably him asking where I was or a drunk snapchat rant.

I open it anyway, and the lone photo makes my stomach twist into a solid knot.

It’s a picture of Marco, cup grasped in his hand, kissing Mina. She has to stand on her tiptoes to reach him, but her hand is buried in his hair. The other partygoers don’t seem to care about the action, but Connie has a caption, “JEAN WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?”

I know exactly what he means. Connie was never as stupid as I made him out to be. He picked up things faster than I did in situations, almost like he’s always known. He meant to ask what I was waiting for. When was I going to tell Marco the truth?

It doesn’t even matter anymore because it looks like it’s too late. Of course, I knew this whole Mina thing was going to happen eventually, but…

I close snapchat without replying. I carefully set my phone down so I don’t chuck it across the room like I want to, slowly shut my computer, and look out the window as calmly as I can. I try not to let my thoughts drown me as I take a deep breath and shut my eyes.

I’m so glad I didn’t go. If I had seen that in person I would’ve…

I feel sick.

My stress has gotten to the point where I can’t ignore it anymore; it’s solidifying, crippling, and nauseating. The feeling isn’t just in my head; I have to leave my room and step into the bathroom to crouch over the toilet.

It’s not a pretty sight.

I’m crying, I’m puking, I’m shaking, and I can only hope that I can flush my emotions down the toilet with everything else when I’m done. I don’t even hear Mom come up the stairs and step into the bathroom, and I jump when she touches my back.

“Jean, should we go to the doctor?” Her words are soft, but full of concern.

“No I’m alright.” I reply quickly because I want her to leave. I want to drown in my own issues without burdening anyone else, and I sure as hell don’t want her to see me cry anymore. I’m lucky it’s just silent tears falling. I keep my face in the toilet bowl, but I don’t breathe.

“Okay honey, I’ll check on you later, okay?”

“Yup.”

When she leaves, I lift my head and take a deep breath through my nose. I want this to be over. I’m done with the guilt, these feelings that I still don’t understand…but I don’t want to imagine a world where Marco and I aren’t friends anymore. That sounds like hell on earth, and I can’t be okay with that. But as usual…I don’t know what to do.

I flush the toilet but remain where I am in case my stomach changes its mind. My self-reflecting hasn’t seemed to be very productive, and Mom said that I should just give it time…but it doesn’t look like I have much time left. Mina finally made her move on him, actually it was just as possible that Marco made a move on her first, and now there was nothing to stop them from doing whatever the fuck they wanted to.

I don’t know how much time passes while I’m sitting in front of the toilet, but I eventually hear my dad come in through the front door. His voice travels through the house the way it always has, and my mom speaks with him in a much quieter, reserved tone.

“Where’s Jean?” I hear him ask.

“He’s not feeling well, but he’ll be down for dinner.”

I rest my elbows on the toilet seat and massage my scalp with my fingertips.

_Get a grip already Jean._

The two go deeper into the house and out of my range of hearing, thankfully. I don’t want to know what they’re talking about.

 

When I do find the courage to leave the bathroom, I go downstairs to see my dad on the couch, typing away at his laptop.

“Hey dad.”

He whips around to look at me, a broad smile stretching across his face. I’m surprised to see him set aside his laptop, stand up, and pull me into a strong hug.

“You’ve gotten taller Jean!”

“Have I?” I wouldn’t doubt it, considering the amount of time he’s been gone.

“Your mother said you aren’t feeling well? Are you doing okay right now?” his hand skims my forehead in what I assume to be his lingering father-instincts that he forgot he had. When he doesn’t find a temperature, he frowns. Whether it’s at my lack of fever or the confusion of his own action, I’m not sure.

“Yeah I’m okay.” I don’t offer any more, and he doesn’t ask any further.

“Boys! Dinner!” Mom’s voice travels down the hall, summoning us into the dining room for the sit-down we’ve all been dreading for days. Dad gives me an unreadable smile before leading the way into the dining room, and the constant trickle of dread through my system makes me drag my feet after him.

The table is perfectly set with napkins folded and glasses arranged; it looks unnatural and staged, considering we never sit at the table for dinner anymore. At least not together as a family.

I hesitate before taking my seat, but Dad drops into his chair with a heavy sigh without a second thought. Mom breezes into the room with the roast and sets in on the table with a determined expression. She takes notice that I’m still standing and I can see the plea in her eyes, despite the fact she doesn’t speak a word out loud. A silent message passes between us, and I quietly take my seat.

Things shouldn’t be so bad. Or so I’d like to think, but I have to wipe my sweaty hands against my shorts every other second. I’m not even hungry. I’m here for Mom’s sake so we can pick right back up from where we left off in time for my last year in high school.

“Time sure flies by. While we still have the opportunity we should go tour some more schools out of state so you can see what you’re interested in…”

I nod along as Dad rambles, spooning peas onto my plate for simply something to do other than stare at the wooden table.

“You also have to start working on your essays. Even though you’re intelligent enough to get in with your GPA it’s still good to have a few scholarships thrown in…”

God, make this end.

I don’t want to think about college, of all things, right now. I can’t even imagine going back to high school for another shitty year…I can’t think that far ahead.

“That’s a conversation for another day, okay honey?” Mom gives Dad a stern look before she lightly takes the bowl from my hands. I didn’t realize I had been piling peas onto my plate for so long; most of the bowl was empty and my plate was overridden by green and not much else.

I don’t even like peas.

“I’d like to say we have time but we don’t. Finances don’t arrange themselves, Emma.” Dad doesn’t seem to notice my blunder since his gaze is locked on Mom. I feel like I’m caught in what feels like an impending explosion and I can’t hide under my fucking mountain of peas to protect myself.

“There’s enough stress right now as there is.” Mom sighs. Her vague comment makes Dad quip an eyebrow.

“Stress? It’s summer what stress could there possibly be?”

Oh, if only you knew.

I poke at my mashed potatoes, pushing peas into the surface until the blob itself looks deformed and lumpy. When I bring it to my mouth I focus more on not throwing up than the actual disgusting texture in my mouth. I’m riding this conversation out from the sidelines, and luckily no one has tried to drag me into it yet. Dad simply talks, and Mom criticizes or forms the response he’s looking for. It’s usually like that.

“I don’t want it to seem like Trost University is Jean’s only option.” Dad cuts through his roast a little roughly, and I nearly jump at the sound of his knife scraping the plate. “You’d be amazed at the amount of children I saw near his age who couldn’t find options for even the most basic education, it’s terrible.”

“When you were in Mexico?” Mom asks. She brings the wine glass to her lips as if she dreads the answer.

“While I was in Mexico. It’s in countries around the globe though, and opportunities don’t come to everyone. We’re privileged enough to be living in Trost as it is.” 

Well with your big-shot job that’s the only way we can.

I nearly roll my eyes at his half-speech. My current fantasy consists of reaching across the table and snatching Mom’s wine bottle away, only to down it myself. Yeah I might get in trouble for it, but a lecture is certainly better than this sit-down dinner.

“What exactly did you accomplish in Mexico?”

Dad seems to dissect the words in his mind; I think he’s realizing that Mom is pissed. Or, has been pissed for a long time.

“A lot more than we initially intended,” he levels his gaze across the table to meet my mother’s, and I feel like I’ve been officially cut from the conversation, “we finished our projects ahead of time, kick started some new ideas, conducted meetings, and we established new connections with the locals.”

“It seemed like you had a lot of free time. Maybe enough time that you could have come home instead of waiting three months?” Mom stabs the meat on her plate, but the act is completely passive-aggressive. It doesn’t shake the table like Dad makes it when he’s angry, nor does the action particularly stand out unless you’re paying attention. 

I watch Mom’s hands at times like these. Her face usually never gives anything away, but when she’s upset her hands shake like mine. As they speak to one another, Mom keeps one hand balled in a fist while the other messes with her fork; she’s desperately trying to mask whatever she’s feeling, and I’m sure she’s trying to hide it from me.

She didn’t want this conversation to happen tonight. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have called me down. However, you can only keep three months of anger and frustration contained for so long, and there wasn’t a chance in hell that I’d stop her from going on a rampage.

Yet it doesn’t happen. Even when Dad gives her a basic-ass excuse like she’s used to getting, she simply takes another sip of her wine, draws her lips into a tight line, and continues to alternate between listening and eating. I expect a fight to break out, but it’s just the tension that makes it all unbearable.

“Now that I think of it, Jean where is Marco thinking about going after graduation?”

I freeze with my fork centimeters from my mouth.

Marco and I never even thought about mentioning college to one another. I highly doubted he’d considered his choices yet, because if he had he would have told me. If I did I would have told him since it’s such a big deal and all, but…even that seemed to drift farther out of my reach.

“No idea.” I grit out before shoving another mouthful of peas into my mouth.

“That boy is something else, I know for sure he’s going places. What have you two been up to this summer?” Dad doesn’t seem to read the atmosphere that well either, and my small look of agony is only seen by Mom. 

“This…and that…”

“This and that?”

I swallow and clear my throat. “We went to the pool, there was a picnic…we mostly hung out at home…”

“Did you all go see the fireworks again this year?”

“Yeah…”

Mom sets down her fork and widens her eyes in a pleading gesture, “Richard, let’s continue this tomorrow–”

“Where is Marco anyway? You two are always glued to the hip. I’m surprised he and Sheila aren’t here.”

I close my mouth with an audible snap and rise to my feet.

“You probably won’t see much of Marco anymore.” I leave my full plate at the table and pause before leaving the dining room, “Sorry I really don’t feel well, I’m going to bed.”

“Jean?” Dad’s voice carries out into the hallway but I flee from it as quickly as I can, taking the stairs two at a time back to my room. I can’t sit down and fill Dad in on the things I don’t even understand myself! And if I did it would only make me feel worse than I do already. And that would be an impressive sight to see.

* * *

 

Mom must have filled Dad in on my current situation, considering the fact he doesn’t bother me for quite some time. Neither of them enter my room or expect me down for dinner, but right when I thought I could finally disconnect from the world I get a knock at my door.

I bury deeper into my blankets hoping I can convince them I’m still sleeping.

“Jean can I talk to you for a second?”

I peek out at the sound of Dad’s voice, and he cracks the door enough to peek inside.

“Can I come in?”

I give him a stiff nod before sitting up in bed so he has room to situate himself at the end of it. I take in his sweatpants and hoodie, a complete different sight from his button-down shirts and business khakis. Not only that, but his hair is much grayer than I remember it being, and his bald spot might have grown a little more. Dad was displaying all the age Mom wasn’t, but then again they had quite a few years between them.

“What’s up?” I ask warily. I have no idea what he wants, or what he could possibly say to me after all this time apart.

Dad makes a thinking noise and looks out my window, as if he didn’t expect to get this far with me.

“Get dressed, you and I are going out.”

It takes me a while to process his words and I can only sit there with my mouth half-open like an idiot.

“Huh?”

 

 

I don’t know how it happened, but I somehow managed to get far from the safety of home and smack dab in the middle of a Trost baseball game.

I know my father has nothing but good intentions, and maybe I would have rotted from the inside out if I didn’t leave the house soon. If I didn’t wear my cap outside I’m sure the sun would have blinded me by now.

Dad got us seats near the nose-bleed section, which is where I prefer considering there’s less people, and for most of the game we sit and watch in silence.

“For a distraction” he had said when we got here, as if that explained everything. And in its own way, it did.

Ever since I was five years old, my dad would bring me to baseball games with him. Whether it was just the two of us, or dragging me along with his friends, we always came together. We’d sit in the nosebleed section, buy two cokes and a bag of peanuts (if I was lucky I also got nachos), and watch the game unfold never truly caring if we won or not. It’s the one bonding thing I have with my dad, and when I became friends with Marco and his dad died, my dad started bringing Marco with us as a new kind of tradition. Now, I’m so used to the worn-down stadium and screams from the crowd that it all feels nostalgic to me. It’s my distraction from the chaos of my own mind.

“You know…” Dad waits until the eighth inning to finally break the surface with his intended conversation. It’s so like him that it doesn’t surprise me anymore. “Back in college, I got into this big fight with one of my best friends over a girl we both liked.”

“Was it Mom?” Isn’t that how these kinds of stories usually go? 

Dad chuckles as he pops open another bag of peanuts. “No, it wasn’t. It was a stupid and pointless fight, but we both said things to each other that were uncalled for and…pretty shitty to be honest.”

I turn in my seat to give him my full attention. It wasn’t like Dad to talk about his past. In fact, I barely knew anything about his childhood or school days at all.

“So…how did you two make up?” I’m wondering what the purpose of this story is; if he’s trying to skirt around the topic of me and Marco, it’s not going to work. 

He hands me the bag after taking a handful and glances back at the scoreboard.

“That’s my point Jean. I never got to apologize to him.” He breaks the peanut in half and studies it before popping into his mouth. “A few days later he died in a car crash on his way home. I never got the chance to fix what had happened and I’ll never be able to take back what I said. Those things will follow you, son.”

I can only blink at his words, shocked at the fact that such a traumatic event had happened to him, and he never mentioned it to me before. I doubt he had ever told Mom about it either. 

“What I’m trying to say is…no matter who is in the wrong in this situation, whether it’s you or Marco, don’t wait to try to fix things. Regret is a terrible thing to feel, and you should never hold grudges against your best friend.” Dad smiles at me. It’s small, but it’s there, and that small fleeting form of his affection is so damn warm that it makes me realize that I’ve been missing him since the moment he left. I missed how his laughter rang through the house when he was on the phone with his friends. I missed the way he’d tease my mom for the sake of jokingly annoying her; I could never hate my dad, even if I tried to. The small things add up between us, and sometimes I forget that things are different between him and I. Our relationship is nothing like the one I have with Mom, and that’s just the way it’s always been.

Even if he’s away, I know he cares about me. He considers Marco his second son, took him in without question and makes him feel welcome whenever he can. I…I’m so grateful for that. He’s still trying to help me patch up my mistakes, even when he thinks that I don’t want his help anymore.

“That…really sucks Dad.”

“Yeah, it does. Even if you move on, you still think about it every day.” He flicks an empty shell over the row in front of us. “I can’t watch you and Marco break apart after all these years, it’s just not right.”

It’s true. It isn’t right.

I don’t want to give up either; I can’t be crushed by the weight of my own guilt for the rest of my life. I can’t just let Marco go. Even if I had to fight him until he gave in, I couldn’t give up.

“I’ll go talk to him.”

“Good. If you need me to come with you, I will.”

“Thanks Dick.”

“It’s Dad.” He laughs at my jab before flicking another shell in my face. The opposing team hits a homerun to start the ninth inning, and it doesn’t look like Trost will be pulling in a victory this weekend. The constant roar of the crowd begs to differ; they all seem to have blind faith in our team, or maybe they’re all too drunk to tell what the score is.

“And Jean…” Dad’s voice takes on the somber tone that I know too well. I shouldn’t have expected this outing to go so smoothly. Of course there would be something else. I had a gut feeling as soon as we left the house. “I’m sure you know things haven’t been the best between me and your mother lately.” 

Try for the past two years.

“And we’ve been trying to sort things out, believe me…” My lack of response spurs on Dad’s habit of talking _at me_ rather than _to me_ , which is fine because I don’t think I have the heart to participate. “…but Jean I don’t think things are going to work out between us.”

The opposing team gets struck out, but Trost is too far behind to even dream about catching up. The game was already over; their first batter strikes out right away, securing their defeat in minutes.

I can hear what Dad is saying to me, but I’m not allowing it to process. It…wasn’t going to work out, of course it wasn’t. I knew this a long time ago. This was nothing new. I should have known that this was coming.

I take a deep breath and crush the bag in my grip, spilling peanuts over myself and the row in front of us.

As long as I don’t sink into his words…

But his words are resolute and weigh more than I could ever imagine.

“Jean, your mother and I are getting a divorce.”

I stare at the field as the game finishes up and the fans start to trickle out of the stadium. Dad scratches his head awkwardly, not knowing what to do with my silence. I spare him the worry and stand up to brush off the peanut shells, throwing him a plastic smile.

“Ready to go?”

 

* * *

  

As promised, I follow through with what my dad calls, “taking the bull by the horns”. And I have confidence with it at first; I wake up, shower, get dressed, and eat breakfast and lunch like everything is the way it should be. I spend a majority of my afternoon watching TV while I run through the lines I plan on saying, deciding that beating around the bush wasn’t going to cut it anymore. This was it.

The next time I leave Marco’s house I’ll have either succeeded or failed.

If we couldn’t figure things out today, it was bound to remain like that until school started. Once we went back to that shithole, nothing will change. 

And I’m ready to fix it.

I tie my shoes at the entry-way, spare my worried parents a plastic smile and step out into the muggy Trost air. It looks like rain is headed our way, considering the dark clouds above. I don’t care if it’s an omen or whatever; there could be a fucking tornado and my ass would still be on his doorstep. 

And I truly believe this. If I loved Marco, I wouldn’t let him go this easily.

Even so…

I freeze at his door. I walked up his porch steps with confidence I didn’t know I had left, but now that it was time to ring the doorbell, every muscle in my body has managed to lock into place. My instincts are shouting at me to turn around and go back home, as if this were some terrible mistake. This wasn’t the kind of panic where I can’t stop shaking or worrying, no this was solid fear. So what? I go in there and tell him that I like him more than I thought? What if he takes it badly? Worst of all, what if it makes him hate me more? I doubt my feelings will make much of difference if he’s already with Mina…but there’s always that _what if._

I stare at my hand; poised and ready to receive the final order to press the button less than an inch away. It’s so frustrating. What the hell am I scared of?!

With sheer force, I press my weight against the doorbell and listen to it ring faintly through the house. There’s something else playing inside; I’m not sure if it’s the radio or the TV, but it sounds a little loud–

My train of thought is interrupted when the front door swings open.

Every rehearsed line I had in my mind vanishes without a trace left behind, forcing me to stand there in dumb shock as my eyes run over Marco.

He looks terrible.

I’m not saying that to be mean, but the bags under his eyes speak a language of their own. The tousled hair coupled with the absolute shell-shocked expression he gives me makes me wonder if he’s been as upset as me.

We share a mutual look of panic and Marco steps aside for me to come in without a word.

_This could be bad_.

I shake the thought away as I step into the living room, and sure enough music drifts through the house in a mellow rhythm that I’m sure can be heard from every room in the house. The source is the old record player they keep against the back wall near the window. 

It takes me a few moments to find my voice.

“Where’s Sheila?” I slowly turn around to look Marco in the eye. He stares at the ground instead, bundled deep in his hoodie as if he could hide from my gaze.

“Not here.” He fidgets with the hem of his jacket. “She’s on a date.”

His voice is rough and I notice the way his voice changes on the word “date”. Maybe that was still a touchy subject for him?

After I promised myself not to beat around the bush…

“As you can probably guess I came here to formerly apologize.”

Marco hardens his gaze and pulls harder at his jacket.

“I don’t want an apology.”

I fight the urge to throw up my hands and say “aw damn!” because holy shit is this guy leaving me at a standstill.

“Then tell me what you want, Marco.” I keep my voice calm and patient, despite the chaos that’s happening in my head. Clearly, shouting and throwing a fit wasn’t going to solve anything here.

Marco’s hands drop to his sides and he lets out a heavy sigh. He shifts from foot to foot. He sniffs. He still doesn’t look at me.

“I don’t want anything.”

“How are things with Mina?” I want to slap myself the moment the words come out of my mouth. Even if I plan on taking the sophisticated route, there’s still a method to this whole conversation. At least, there was a method but I lost it all the moment I saw Marco’s downtrodden expression. Now it was like I had to wing lines for a play I never rehearsed for.

Marco shuts his eyes as if the question exhausted him; maybe he thinks he can avoid the question.

“Connie sent me a snapchat.” I run my hand across the spine of the couch in an attempt to distract myself from the rush of emotions I’m trying to hold back. “Are you two a thing now?” 

He remains silent, but his eyes rest on my hand now as it moves from side to side.

Is this it? Am I going to have a one-sided conversation tonight?

“Well if so, good for you. I shouldn’t have said what I did the other day. If you like her, you should be happy with her.” 

This time he pinches the bridge of his nose and looks up to the ceiling. I fall silent, watching the slow, drawn out movements he makes. Saying he looks exhausted is an understatement, and it wasn’t even six o’clock in the evening.

I wait for him to answer me. I don’t drone on like I want to, nor do I try to pry him for a response.

“There’s nothing going on.” Marco finally mutters, but I can barely hear him over the music.

“What?”

“We aren’t dating.” He speaks a little louder and his eyes finally meet mine. “There’s nothing going on between us.”

“Then why were you kissing?”

“We were drunk and Mina kissed me, that’s all.”

_Right._

I rock back on my heels and cast a look around the room. At this rate, I can’t see us getting anywhere, so what should I do? I can’t spill my guts here and now and expect everything to be okay. I can’t just blurt out _Marco I think I’m in love with you and I’m so sorry_.

I bite my lip and scratch at the couch as anxiety creeps back into my seemingly calm façade. I’m losing my patience.

“But Mina doesn’t think that. I mean, she never does.”

Marco’s tone is blunt. “I made sure to tell her.”

“So there’s nothing between you two?”

“Nothing.”

“Then what’s bothering you? Is it your mom?” I nearly flinch when his expression changes. The intense, raw emotion stirring in his eyes tells me that maybe, I’m asking too much.

“There’s a lot of things bothering me, Jean.”

“You can talk to me.” I nearly bite my tongue. I can’t even meet his gaze, like hell he can…

“I can’t.” It still stings when he says it.

I let out a frustrated groan. “Right. Of course.” I can feel him staring at me, but this time I avoid his gaze. The stinging in my eyes warns me that I’m reaching my emotional limit. It’s only a matter of time before I start crying in front of him, and I’m so fucking tired of crying. What else can I do? How can I make him go back to the Marco he was a month ago? How can I fix this?

The music changes to a different tune, and its shift is only marked by a small scratching sound that indicated its old age.

I’m surprised when Marco approaches me and grabs me by my wrists. 

“Dance with me.” It’s not a request, but an order as he drags us to the middle of the room and stand facing one another. 

I give him a quizzical look before giving in with a sigh, resting my hands around his neck while his hands encircle my waist. The position feels so natural to the both of us that somehow it isn’t even awkward despite our current situation.

When we were kids, Sheila had her own unique way of solving problems. If Marco and I ever got into a disagreement or a fight, she’d plant us in front of the radio and make us dance together. It turns out it’s pretty difficult to stay angry when both parties look equally as dumb, and Marco and I have always solved our problems using her method. Although it was intended to be a joke, we’ve danced together countless times, even in cases when we weren’t mad at each other. 

So we just rock together to the music without saying a word. I try to focus on my breathing and not the feeling of his hands around my waist or the familiar scent I forgot he had. I know we’re being ridiculous, but if Marco made the decision to dance it out, maybe he wants to fix us…

_I could leave the old days behind, leave all my pals, I’d never mind…_

God, this song is so old. Yet it was still so familiar that I unconsciously tighten my hold around Marco’s neck.

_I could climb the very highest mountain,_

_Or, I could sail the mighty ocean wide,_

_I could also cross the burning desert_

_If I had you by my side…_

And it’s so fucking cliché I want to laugh. Marco’s always had a soft spot for Frank Sinatra, but damn why did he have to choose to dance to this song? 

I wish I could laugh, but instead it comes out as a muffled sob. There’s no point in holding back the floodgates if the song was going to force them open anyway.

Marco keeps us moving to the beat of the song, despite my gradual lack of effort as we reach the end of it. I just don’t want to let him go and let this be over. I don’t want to have any more regrets.

We slowly pull apart as the record shifts to the next song.

“I just don’t understand…” Marco meets my stare with a tired one of his own.

“What don’t you understand?” Hell, that should be my line.

Marco cocks his head slightly to the side and my heart rate spikes.

“You.”

I wish I understood myself. Fuck, I wish I understood everything at this point because at least then I’d have _answers._ I’d have something to tell me how to get my feelings across without ruining whatever relationship we have left.

My confused look seems to spur him on.

“I don’t know how to act around you anymore…I mean, what am I to you?”

_What am I to you?_

What the hell is that supposed to mean? The pained expression he gives me suggests that this is what he’s wanted. The answer to a seemingly impossible question that I don’t even understand the meaning to. What was Marco to me? My friend? My lifeline? Did I want him to be my boyfriend? I don’t normally think of these kinds of things throughout the day. Marco is…Marco. That, at least, will never change.

“I…I don’t know…what you mean…” And I’m desperate, because if this is the answer I need to change everything, I have to find it.

We stare at each other for a painfully long amount of time, but it isn’t until Marco turns away that my mouth starts moving on its own.

“I do know that I don’t want to lose you! I hate this…whatever this is! Marco, you’re important to me and I thought that was obvious, but clearly it wasn’t! I want to fix this so please, _please_ …stop pushing me away!”

His eyes widen and he stops in his tracks. He searches my face for validation, as if I could even lie to him at this point, and he gives me a sad smile.

“I have to push you away to keep things the way they are.”

My heart drops more at his expression than his words.

“What do you mean?!”

Marco shakes his head, keeping the same fake smile in place. “Forget about it, we can talk about it tomorrow." 

“No!” I surprise myself when my voice rises to a shout. I can hear my dad’s story playing on repeat in my head and the idea that _there might not be a tomorrow_. “No, Marco please it has to be now.” 

He turns away and tends to the record player, keeping his back to me. I wait in excruciating agony as he searches for a response.

“It really does suck to fall in love with your best friend.” It sounds like he’s talking to himself, but the shake in his hands as he flips the record over means he said something he regrets.

I stare at his back as I process his words. Slowly. Carefully. Like pieces to a puzzle, slowly things start to connect in my mind and the gaps are finally being filled in. As the picture forms, a sense of pure relief floods through my body, and for once I can breathe again without the heavy weight crushing me. As I realize what this is, the feeling becomes warm and almost…giddy.

I’m so fucking happy.

Marco takes the silence badly. He slowly turns to face me in what looks like defeat; as if he dropped whatever hope he had left and it broke into pieces in front of his eyes. Honestly, I expected that to be me tonight.

“Are you telling me you’ve been acting weird because you have a crush on me?” It feels uncharacteristic for me to have a smile on my face in this situation, but it nonetheless makes its appearance.

Marco also takes this badly.

“Why are you saying it like that?” I was hoping he’d pick up my humor, but it only looks like I twisted a knife in the wound. He thinks I’m messing with him, flaunting his insecurities in his face like a grade-A asshole. I’m not surprised.

“I’m just relieved, that’s all.” I shift my weight a little. “It’s such a stupid reason to fight, I would’ve told you I liked you too.”

Marco narrows his eyes. “That’s not my point Jean! I don’t want you to tell me things to make me feel better!”

“It’s not to make you feel better! It’s the truth!” I know I won’t be able to catch myself in time, considering I’ve never been the best at emotional exchanges. “I love you Marco Bodt! Even if you think I’m an asshole! What are you to me? You’re whatever you want to be.”

Shock.

That’s the only thing that registers on Marco’s face. And slowly, but surely, his face turns red with every passing second. I’m sure it’s not as red as mine, but at least it’s getting there.

“…You what?” He doesn’t believe me.

I swallow whatever pride I have left and speak with confidence. This is my answer.

“I love you Marco.”

He blinks at me and it looks like he’s going to cry. There’s still a weird atmosphere between us and I want to overcome it so we can be comfortable again…

“Isn’t this the part where we run towards each other and make out?” _Classic Jean._

Marco lets out a disbelieving laugh as he meets me halfway to pull us into a bone-crushing hug. To my joy, he doesn’t hesitate in kissing me, and I tangle my fingers in his hair to bring him as close as he can possibly be.

It doesn’t feel real.

His lips against mine are soft and familiar, and the deeper the kiss gets the more I realize that I’ve been a complete idiot for a very long time. This is what I wanted; I wanted _us._

Marco cups my jaw while his tongue mingles with mine, and it’s so sloppy but neither of us care anymore. There are so many things I want to tell him since we’ve last spoken and there are so many lost chances I’ve had to touch him that I have to make up for. Although we’re both desperate for contact, it will never be enough to satisfy either one of our deepest desires.

All the emotions crammed up inside of me are boiling over, and there’s nothing I can do to stop them. As soon as Marco pulls away I know that the moment I open my mouth again, things are just going to fall out of it like word vomit and who knows what the first one is going to be...

“My parents are getting a divorce.” The hollow words hang in the air before falling away.

Oh. I almost forgot about that.

I was so dead-set on talking to Marco that I disregarded what my dad said to me that day for the sake of staying sane. Now that the words came from my own mouth, it feels as though I’ve made it real. The warmth I feel threatens to drain away faster than it had come, but a few moments later I feel a hand rub circles on my back in the soothing way I’ve missed so, so much. After everything, he’s still trying to comfort me?

“You’re going to be okay, Jean. I’m here remember?” Marco’s voice is quiet and rough, and I can feel his pain leak into his words. He too, is straining under the burden of his own emotions, and in this case we weren’t too different. We both wanted to cross that street sooner and reconcile because we need each other more than we could ever imagine. This boy is my safe- haven among my own chaos, and if he isn’t there I have no choice but to break apart. I was stupid for thinking it would be any different for him.

The tight grip he has on me begins to shake and he drops his head onto my shoulder.

“ _I miss my dad._ ” When he speaks, gravity somehow manages to get stronger, because his words are heavier than anything I’ve ever experienced. His grief is crushing whatever resolve he has left, and it’s been so long since I’ve seen him like this that I started to think everything was okay. It wasn’t. Marco was never going to be okay with this; how could I even leave him alone at the time he needed me the most?! 

I need words. 

I need words that are strong enough to stand as glue and hold him together, even if it’s just for a little while. Something. _Anything_.

But I’m bad at this. I don’t know what should be said to the sobbing boy on my shoulder. I don’t know how a broken person can fix someone the same as them. I can’t calm the tremors that shake through both of our bodies or stop the tears from falling, but I would if I could. 

I need something.

“You’re going to be okay, Marco.” In the end, it’s just a mirroring of his words, but sometimes we need reassurance. “We… _we’re going to be okay_.”

Marco’s shaking slowly comes to a stop and I can feel his tears run down my collarbone. His breathing becomes steadier and his sobbing subsides, but I don’t let him go. 

And this is enough.

It has to be because it’s all I have. 

Where does this leave us? On what ground do we stand?

“ _I love you Jean_.” Marco murmurs as he deepens the hug. “I’m so sorry I did this…”

Fuck.

My heart feels like it’s going to jump out of my chest. He said it. He said… _it_.

And it doesn’t feel out of place. It doesn’t feel like everything’s changed. This…this is what I’ve always wanted…

“I love you too.” And my voice manages to break as if saying it a second time is harder. “I love you…”

I can feel him breathing down the side of my neck, and I think he can sense the small inkling of distress still floating in my mind.

“I never liked Mina like that.” I shiver when his lips pass over my collarbone. “But I knew she liked me.”

“So why did you kiss her?”

“I just wanted to make sure…”

“Make sure what?” 

Marco hesitates. “That I didn’t like her. I told her that before she kissed me.”

I’m finally able to let out the heavy sigh that carries away all my insecurities for the moment. I feel weightless, and I feel closer to being whole than I’ve ever felt.

My fingers trail through Marco’s hair idly as we stand through a period of silence. He hasn’t washed it in a couple of days, judging by the oily shine at his roots, but I can’t blame him.

“You need to shower.”

Marco’s response is a barely recognizable mumble.

“Get off my case.”

Nonetheless, we both start laughing before peeling apart. I can’t stop myself from poking the side of his cheek where an authentic smile is starting to make its appearance on his face. The sadness is still there, but it was becoming more and more bearable.

“So…” I duck my hands back into my pockets and shoot him a shy look. “I love you, you love me, now we’re a great big family…”

This gets the guy to finally laugh. It’s not as hearty as it normally is, but it’s still a laugh. 

“We can figure that out later Jean!” 

“But Barney says…”

“ _JEAN!_ ” Marco wipes the tears from his eyes with a stray chuckle. “Tomorrow.”

Right.

I could use a nap myself. Now that all the stress with Marco’s fallen away, my body feels like it took a good beating in the meantime. I still have other problems to deal with, but I gotta fight my battles one at a time.

“True you look like you haven’t slept in years.” 

“You’re one to talk.” Marco rolls his eyes. “I had a lot to think about.” 

I nod at him before heading towards the door. “Tomorrow, you promise?” 

He gives me a firm nod and relief colors his features. “I promise. I’ll come over.”

“Good.” With that, I leave him for the night. The short walk over to my house feels like the calmest I’ll ever be again, and the feeling of my body touching my bed is the most sacred experience I’ll ever remember.

For once, everything feels like it’s going to be okay.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are only two chapters left after this one! We are reaching the end of our story! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I know I definitely enjoyed reading/editing it. As always, we love receiving comments and appreciate your continued support.  
> ^^^  
> whew...I wore myself out with this one! This was the most internal dialogue I've ever written, so I hope that everyone likes it! You get to see into the deep and dark aspects of Jean's mind in this chapter, along with his inner demons. Thank you so much to everyone who reads or leaves kudos, comments, etc. because it means the world to us! Hang on just a little longer we have only 2 chapters left! Well...1 and a half chapters. So much pressure!! At least I can tell you that the last chapter (epilogue) will be in Marco's point of view so that should be interesting...  
> P.S. the song Marco was listening to was "If I Had You" by Frank Sinatra (in case you couldn't tell), and he was listening to it because he is angsty.  
> Until next time...


	11. The Kids Are Alright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With their love confessed, what left is there to tell? But then the Lord proclaimed “let there be smut.”

Marco and I spend our weekend together as we normally do, huddled in my room and mindlessly watching TV as the hours tick by. Now, this is great and all, but there’s something that’s been bothering me.

Everything still feels the same.

Yeah, we confessed our feelings to one another and crossed that bridge, but ever since we’ve been acting the same way as before. I’m not sure how we’re supposed to be acting per se, or if there’s something I should say about it. I don’t know if we should be kissing more or touching; am I missing something? It’s not like I’ve ever been in a functional relationship before…

I click to a different channel a little angrily as my inner frustration reaches the surface. God, ever since I confessed to Marco I’ve been so damn needy it’s making me sick. Not only that, I’m too shy to let him know how fucking needy I am. In all reality, I could reach over and pull him into a kiss right now; I doubt he’d stop me, but ugh that’s so embarrassing!

Instead I scoot a little closer to him on the bed and lean against the wall, settling on the new cooking show we managed to get hooked on yesterday. Marco sits with my giant stuffed panda between his legs, his chin resting on the top of its head as he texts on his phone. He doesn’t react to my small movement, but my choice in the TV program awards his full attention.

“Is this the elimination episode?” he asks as he drops his phone beside us.

“Think so.”

I’ve never been more jealous of a stuffed animal in my life. Just the way his arms encircle the bear, crushing it to his chest makes me want to rip it out of his grip and slide into his lap instead.

And the question returns: what the fuck is wrong with me?

Near the end of the episode, Marco lets out a long sigh before he slides off the wall to settle his head on my lap. Although he doesn’t release his hold on my panda, he nuzzles against my thigh and I find myself smiling at the show of affection.

I have it bad.

“Why would they let that guy in the kitchen? I bet his hair gets in all the food…” Marco’s voice is a tired mumble and I can tell it’s starting to reach our bedtime. Aside from the light of my TV, my room is pitch black along with the world outside, reminding us that it’s pretty pathetic to still be up at three a.m. watching the food network.

“You’d think he’d wear a hairnet or something.” I nod in agreement as my fingers play with Marco’s hair.

“He doesn’t look like the kind of person to wash his hands either.”

I chuckle at that. “You’re probably right. He probably has crazy B.O. too.”

“At least I’m not the only one who thinks so.” Marco yawns and I take that as my cue to shut off the TV.

“…This is when the murderer pops out from the hallway…” I put on my eerie voice once we’re suspended in darkness and tap the back of Marco’s neck.

“ _Jean._ ” Marco’s not having any of it.

“Could happen.” I shrug and roll away, fumbling for the covers before Marco can claim them first. He doesn’t move right away, but when he does he settles near the wall and makes a small whine in the back of his throat.

“You need to invest in a nightlight.”

“I’m sorry I’m not five years old.” I close the distance and press my face into his back, right between his shoulder blades, and latch on to him. “See? I’m right here.”

With a sigh, Marco relaxes under my grip. He slowly flips over to pull me closer and against his chest so I can rest my hand over his heart. As I doze off, I focus on the strong and constant beating of his heart under my palm; to me, there’s nothing more comforting than that.

I begin to realize that I had been taking Marco’s presence for granted. I didn’t realize how empty my bed felt when he was gone, or how quiet the house was until when we were fighting. Now, it feels like I’ll only be able to sleep when he’s right beside me, and when he is I feel more well-rested than I ever have.

 

When I wake up in the morning, I’m actually smiling. Everything is warm and smells nice, and I can feel the rise and fall of Marco’s body against mine as we lie nose to nose. We’ve somehow managed to pretzel ourselves together with the sheets again, but this time it’s a comfortable closeness that I can appreciate.

Marco blinks awake only a few moments after I wake up, and when he registers how close we are he breaks into a heart-stopping grin. No one should be this beautiful in the morning.

“’Morning.” He murmurs to me, his voice still thick with sleep. It’s low, deep and raspy and shit it stirs something in my body. It’s strong enough to make me kiss him as hard as I can.

He seems shocked at my bold move, but returns the kiss gracefully, resting his palm against the side of my face as we set the pace. If I could, I’d make out with Marco every minute of every day; that’s how desperate I’ve been lately. It’s almost as if his presence alone is an addiction that I have to fill, and every time he touches me it makes it harder to resist.

My hand grabs a fistful of his shirt when I feel Marco’s tongue sneak into my mouth, and an unruly groan makes its way out of me. I don’t think too much of it, but it reminds me of the obvious, well, _hard_ appendage pressed against my inner thigh. I’m sure Marco’s experiencing the same with our current position.

I feel impatient, which is dangerous considering I have no idea what Marco wants. He seems to be the calmer and more collected one while I like to run in head-first and crash into whatever’s in front of me. Being close for so long, I feel like we skipped so many steps that anything I do would be reasonable…but when would I be crossing the line? What exactly did Marco want? I know that I want him as close to me as possible–it can be emotionally or physically, but when it came to us those things simply came together right? I’m comfortable enough with him to show that there’s no more need for the walls of self-defense, and I’m willing to do whatever he wants me to do.

Marco’s breathing picks up in speed and he presses our lips together quicker than before. He breaks away to sneak down the column of my neck and suck at my collarbone, forcing me to tilt my head back and utter a soft “fuck” under my breath. This guy…is seriously going to drive me crazy.

I shift around a little, sliding my thigh further under his groin, and Marco lets out a low moan as his teeth graze my neck. With my heartbeat pounding in my ears, I pull him back to my lips and catch his bottom lip between my teeth before he can move again. As we melt back into the kiss, I daringly slide my hand down the front of his pajama pants to see, as I suspected, that Marco had gone commando last night. My fingers pass over the small, coarse hairs before wrapping around his dick.

Marco gasps against my jaw, and I nearly do the same as I take in how fucking huge this guy is and I mean _damn_. For good measure, I slowly draw my hand from the base up, earning a shuddering moan from Marco and an increasingly pulsing heat in my palm. It’s a little unexpected when Marco mimics my action and reaches into my pants; I nearly jolt under his grip and he proceeds to give me slow-paced pumps. I press our foreheads together and do the same, following the steady pace he’s managed to set for us. Every time I switch up the motion or abruptly change the speed, I listen to Marco’s reaction and gauge how much he seems to enjoy it. It’s hard to tell with both of us speeding up, desperate for contact and it’s not like I can actually concentrate…

“Ugh Marco…” I end up moaning his name a little louder than I’d wanted, but the sudden twitch his body gives me in response makes me think it was worth it. His labored breathing, his eyes heavy-lidden and cast down towards our hands, even his brow pinched in concentration is perfect. I move my hand faster and try to give him a quick peck, but he grabs the back of my head and pulls me into another deep kiss. In between moans, he presses our lips together and I can feel him smiling against my mouth.

Who would’ve known the cute and innocent Marco Bodt would be this horny. The idea of Marco being cute and innocent is a good laugh on its own, but I’m still surprised about this…this aura that he’s giving off. It’s almost as if he’s a different person; smooth, collected and unbearably sexy, who the hell is this? Now that I think about it, I don’t think Marco’s ever had sex with anyone yet…but the guy was so smooth with everything he did, sweeping me off my feet like some kind of a playboy.

I tighten my grip on him and his hips buck towards me, giving a sudden boost to my ego. I try to commit the noises he makes to memory, but the more I listen the closer I get to–

“ _Hah_ …” Marco’s forehead bumps against mine again and I can feel the precum leaking down his shaft, covering my fingers. He sounds just as close as I am. “ _Jean…_ ”

The way he moans my name should be illegal.

I squirm under his tightening grip, trying to focus on the movement of my own hand and not the firm, steady pressure Marco pumps into my hips. Someone else’s hand feels oddly unfamiliar, considering Hitch has jacked me off numerous times, but Marco somehow feels more comfortable. I can’t help but be overwhelmed by the fact that it’s actually his hand down my pants and that I’m only seconds away from having one of the strongest orgasms of my life.

It’s almost like a competition to see who comes first; I twist my wrist in a corkscrew motion that ultimately leads in my sweet, sweet victory when Marco jolts under my hand and comes hard all over my shirt. I don’t live in the moment for too long as Marco’s quick pumps send me over the edge and leave me panting against his shoulder, exhausted.

We lay in silence for a while, trying to catch our breath as the sun settles higher in the sky. I roll onto my back and let out a tired laugh.

“Wow I needed that.”

Marco laughs with me. It’s light and breathless, and when I turn to look at him he’s _beaming_.

“You have no idea.” He closes his eyes and the sun lands on his perfect eyelashes, casting shadows onto his cheekbones. I can’t stop myself from reaching over and touching his face, tracing the strong jawline and perfect features as if I’ve never seen them before.

“I’m really happy, Jean.”

His words leave me at a loss for my own. I proceed to pinch his nostrils together in mild panic, but the gesture still makes me crack a grin.

“Even with an idiot like me?”

“Even with an idiot like you.” His voice comes out nasally and he opens an eye to stare me down. “Can you please let go I can’t breathe.”

I drop my hand.

“I almost used the other one.” I snicker as I flex my left hand, which is still sticky and probably not the best to put on other people.

Marco wrinkles his nose. “I’ll consider myself lucky.”

“Wanna shower together? It’ll save time and hot water.” I slide out of bed and discard my shirt to toss in the hamper. When Marco doesn’t answer right away, I turn to see his expression.

“You want to shower together?” he asks in disbelief.

He sounds just as shocked by my words as me.

What the hell am I thinking, showering together? I mean, I guess it isn’t that weird to consider but the way it just slipped out…

“I-I mean…don’t we have to be at Reiner’s soon?” I push down my inner panic and switch to humor so I can cover it up before he notices. “Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed to be naked in front of me…”

“…Seriously?” Marco grumbles, but he throws the blankets off him and follows me out of the room. We pad silently down the hall and into the bathroom where I close and lock the door behind us.

This is normal. This isn’t weird.

I nod to myself as I adjust the shower settings. Even though I can feel Marco’s eyes on me, I try not to let myself get nervous. I’m all talk and now that it’s happening I can’t chicken out of it. We were just touching each other, so being naked in front of each other was the same thing, right?

Not exactly.

My heart rate still spikes when Marco takes off his shirt, and God help me when he starts taking off his pants.

_Don’t get hard again. Don’t get hard again._

I will all the blood in my body to stay evenly dispersed as I shrug out of my shorts, but it decides to rush to my face instead.

I don’t think I can do this.

“Jean, honestly it’s okay we can shower separately—”

“No.” I startle myself at my tone. “I-I mean…I…w-we can…I want to…”

Marco watches me struggle for my words, slowly crossing his arms over his bare chest with a humored expression. As soon as I give up, he tilts his head back and _laughs_.

It’s so strong that it shakes his body and fills the bathroom, and God it’s so _real_ that it makes me smile despite my frustration.

“Your face…is so red…” he wheezes out between laughing, and I can see the tears in his eyes.

“Are you enjoying yourself?”

As I wait for him to calm down, I realize that I’m not nervous anymore. This wasn’t anything complicated; it was just the two of us and I was over-thinking things again.

I step out my underwear and kick it away, swallowing my pride and facing Marco full on.

His laughter dies in his throat with a loud cough and his eyes wander down before he drags them away. He tries to hide the red in his face by cupping a hand over his mouth.

“What are you waiting for?”

Marco glances up at my question and hesitates before following me into shower. It’s big enough to hold two people comfortably, but I guess we naturally stand close together no matter what.

“I’m surprised we haven’t done this before.” I say almost absentmindedly as I grab the shampoo bottle. “We’ve done nearly everything else.”

“We took baths together when we were kids.”

“That’s different.” I sigh as I turn to face him. “Turn around unless you want soap in your eyes.”

“Bossy.” Marco huffs, but follows my orders. I massage the shampoo into his scalp as efficiently as I can, and Marco proceeds to do the same for me.

It turns out showering with another person is really efficient. Marco’s able to get all the spots on my back that I normally can’t reach, while I get to admire the curves and aspects to his body that I can’t see under his clothes. The whole process isn’t as awkward or embarrassing as I thought it would be, and his hands sliding across my skin feels comfortable and…loving.

Even though I have to restrain myself from kissing him and pinning him against the wall…I could get used to this.

 

“So you do have freckles on your butt…” I hand him a towel as he steps out the shower and adjust mine so it doesn’t fall off. “I’ve been wondering for so long.”

“I wouldn’t know.” Marco muses. He shakes out his hair and blinks the remaining water out of his eyes. “It’s hard to see in a mirror.”

“One day I’ll count them.” I wink at him before approaching the sink to brush my teeth. There’s a few seconds of silence before he speaks.

“You’re into the weirdest things…” Marco picks up his toothbrush and joins my side at the counter.

“But you love it.”

He smiles down at his toothbrush. “I really do.”

With that, I hand him the toothpaste and direct my contagious smile to our reflections.

* * *

  

We don’t leave the house until the late afternoon, thanks to Marco’s insisting that we _have_ to eat breakfast before we go, coupled with my general hesitation to go outside.

Instead of going to the front door of Reiner’s house, Marco and I go towards the backyard, following the sound of Reiner’s horrible music from the patio.

“Yo Jean and Marco!” Connie stops dribbling his basketball as soon as he sees us, leading to Sasha’s wild dash to snatch the ball from his hands. “Sash would you quit it?!”

“Hey guys.” Marco closes the gate behind us and follows me down the small paved path towards the porch. The smell of burgers grilling drags my attention to Reiner, who waves us down from the deck with a big dorky smile on his face.

“It’s good to see you lovebirds back at it again.” Reiner lets out a dreamy sigh and brings his hands together. “Not to sound cocky, but…you’re welcome!”

“Do you want me to hit you?” Marco narrows his eyes, but his tone is joking; it makes Reiner burst into laughter before returning to flipping his burgers.

“Nah in all honesty we were really worried about you guys.”

I measure Reiner’s expression before glancing at Marco. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that everyone had good intentions for us, but sometimes Reiner’s way of going about it could be a little problematic. I guess in his own way, he actually helped us a lot.

“We…really appreciate that.” I tell him with a small smile. “We’re good. Better than good, actually.”

Marco chuckles at my side, and I can feel him playing with a loose string on my shirt.

“Reiner, are you and Bert okay now?” Marco cocks his head to the side and frowns.

Reiner pauses, his spatula poised over the meat.

“Ah…yeah, about that.”

“Yeah I never found out what was up with you two.” It was if they had all been keeping it a secret, yet again I was never great at picking up on things anyway, _obviously_. However, when things were wrong with Reiner and Bert, there was something _seriously_ wrong.

“It wasn’t that big of a deal.” Reiner shrugs. “You know how Bert’s going to school next week? Well he was going to commute every day because he was worried about me being here alone, can you believe that?”

His incredulous laugh makes Marco and I look at each other warily.

“Trost University is only a half-hour drive away though, right?” Marco asks.

“It would still be a waste. He wouldn’t get to stay in the dorms and have a real college experience, and to make it worse I would be the one holding him back.” Reiner shakes his head and gives us a pained smile. “I mean…he chose Trost University for me. He could’ve gone to Stohess. I don’t think he knows that I saw his acceptance letter.”

Marco widens his eyes at that. “Stohess is pretty impressive…”

“Exactly. And he chose Trost over it.”

So that’s what this has been about. The drama that came from the pressure of figuring out your future. While Reiner has had to deal with the feeling of being left behind by his boyfriend, he’s also been stewing in his own regret for believing he’s been holding Bert back. Yeah, Bert was a genius, but in the end his choices were always his own.

“Reiner…you can’t beat yourself up over that.” I scuff my shoe on the sidewalk as I pick my words carefully. “Bert loves you to death, but I don’t think he would ever disregard his future for the sake of staying here. He must’ve thought it through very carefully.”

Reiner nods as he processes my words.

“I believe that. I just think he treats me like a kid that can’t take care of himself. He lives with his uncle and hates it, yet he was going to stay just so he could see me more often.”

Marco rocks back on his heels. “So what’s the final decision?”

“He’s dorming. I can go down there and visit whenever I want.” Reiner’s smile finally becomes authentic. “I hear the parties are crazy over there!”

“Figures.” I huff out and dip into my pockets. “I think that’s the best conclusion for you two.”

“I think so too, thanks Kirschtein.”

I look around the mostly empty backyard and notice a lack of red cups.

“Where’s the drinks?”

“In the kitchen. Almost everyone’s inside since it got ‘too hot’.” Reiner makes air quotations and rolls his eyes. “If everyone wore tank tops there wouldn’t be a problem. The pits gotta breathe!”

“Right…well we’re going to get drinks.” With that, I drag Marco through the patio doors and into the air-conditioned house where sure enough, everyone else seems to be loitering around.

This is where we branch off to socialize, as we normally do; Marco stays in the kitchen while I go into the living room to find Mikasa and Eren…

Arguing.

“Why would I be mad at you? If you just told me the truth I would’ve understood Eren!”

“Look Mikasa I’m sorry okay? I’ve been trying to figure things out and it wasn’t fair for you or Armin so I couldn’t talk about it! Honestly I’m still really confused about some things but I—”

“You love Armin.”

Eren drops his gaze. “Yeah. I’m pretty sure I do.”

Mikasa lets out a long sigh, but she somehow manages to put on a smile. However plastic and feeble it is, it still does the job.

“I’m happy for you two, Eren. I really am.”

“I’m sorry Mikasa, seriously…”

“Don’t apologize.”

“ _Mikasa_ …”

She turns away to find me standing awkwardly in the doorway, watching everything go down. They both stop talking and stare at me in mild panic.

I cross my arms.

“So you and Armin are officially a thing now?” I ask Eren. It wasn’t as if he were dancing around the idea for the past year because he was too scared to turn Mikasa down.

I expect a smart-ass response or a direct insult. Instead I get a sheepish expression that honestly makes me think he’s actually a love-sick idiot.

“Yeah.”

What a turnaround.

“Congrats Eren.” I tell him, and I mean it whole-heartedly, before turning to Mikasa. “Want a drink?”

She nods and follows me back into the kitchen. “Please.”

We approach Ymir and Christa at the counter, and the devil herself smiles down at me as she hands me a premade drink.

“It’s your favorite Jeannie Boy.” Ymir coos. I stare down at it with a mixture of disappointment and exhaustion.

“Is this another Backwards Thong?”

“Ding ding ding!” Christa beams from Ymir’s side. “Mikasa gets the Blackout Bummer!”

“Perfect…” She mutters and proceeds to down it in front of us.

“Holy shit…” Even Ymir is shocked, probably because she knows exactly how much alcohol she put into that cup, only to watch it disappear in seconds. “’Casa’s gonna be a fun time today, huh?”

Mikasa shrugs and tosses her cup into the trash. I refuse to follow her example, even after the onslaught of Ymir’s peer pressure and harassment, and end up talking to Mikasa in the kitchen for almost an hour. We talk about trivial things like the past and what our last year in high school is going to be like, and the more we talk the more I realize that I’m completely relaxed speaking with her now. I used to be all over the place, stuttering and making a fool out of myself because I thought I was obsessed with her. In reality, Mikasa is one of the easiest people to speak to. I can’t tell if she’s sad about what happened with Eren, I mean I would assume so considering she’s had a crush on him since middle school. She’s always been good at masking her emotions, but once she had enough booze coursing through her system everything would come crashing down.

“Are you and Marco together now?” she asks me, somewhat randomly. We were just talking about blue cheese dressing and pineapple on pizza, so the jump left me a little flustered.

“T-together? Ah…we haven’t gotten that far? We’re uh…” It was a good question, and Marco and I were comfortable enough to just being “us” that we haven’t put a label on anything yet. Were we dating? I didn’t know.

“Well you two look happy again, that’s all that matters. I always knew Marco had a crush on you.” Mikasa is finally starting to slur her words, but I don’t think she’s noticed yet. I smile and humor her, considering I’ve never seen her this wasted before.

“You knew? Since when?”

She laughs. “Oh Jean you poor thing.”

“What is that supposed to mean?!”

“Since forever.” She hiccups. “You can see the way he’s so protective of you. Kind of like a mom protecting her cubs! He’d give the evil eye to anyone who got too close, it was hilarious.”

I can only stare at her in shock. “Marco?” _My Marco?!_

“I guess he hid things from you fairly well.” Mikasa leans back and points at Marco, where he stands chatting with Armin and Bert in the dining room. “If you want to understand him better, just watch him closer. I’m sure you’ll see a side of him you’ve never seen before.”

I want to ask ‘like you and Eren?’ but I drop that subject for now. It makes me wonder how long Marco’s had a crush on me without my knowing, and I also wonder when exactly I started to like him. It feels almost as though we’ve wasted so much time up to this point just tripping over each other’s feelings.

Mikasa bids me a drunken goodbye before heading outside and joining Connie and Sasha’s violent match of streetball.

I finish off my cup and head to the bathroom, my mind wandering to how calm everything feels at the moment. It’s like things have finally settled down and we’ve all returned to how we used to be. Of course, some things got more complicated, but none of us seemed to be fighting anymore. Bert and Reiner are good. Eren, Armin, and Mikasa are good…or at least getting there. Ymir and Christa always seemed to be a couple, but I’ve never had the guts to ask straight-forwardly. Connie and Sasha are back to the way they used to be, and Marco and I…well, we’re us.

 

By the time I get back to the kitchen, everyone’s managed to migrate outside except for Marco, who stands at the drink counter on his phone. He looks up at my entrance, a smile already forming on his face.

“Are you hogging all of the drinks to yourself?” I question as I approach him.

“Obviously I was waiting for you.” Marco rolls his eyes, but reaches back to pick up his cup. “And I was making myself a drink.”

I laugh at his honesty. “Right.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Mina staring at us from the backyard. She sits with Christa and Mikasa by the fire pit, and judging from everyone’s hand gestures it seems to be a pretty active debate, yet her eyes are trained on us. Now, instead of the usual ‘ha! In your face bitch!’ I’d usually be thinking at this moment, I only feel numb and a little guilty. All she’s ever done was fall in love with Marco and hate me for being oblivious to his feelings for so long, which I can find completely understandable. Our roles could have been easily reversed; hell, for a while I thought they were. Part of me wants to go out there and apologize for being such a dick to her for so long over something so trivial, but the other part keeps me rooted in front of Marco. Somehow, I think we share a small message of understanding, and Mina smiles at me without any traces of bitterness or hatred. For once I’m able to return it.

And just like that, I feel like she’s changed everything.

I can finally understand her, and that destroyed my reason to hate her. She had been looking out for Marco’s best interests while I played the dumbass.

I’m pulled back to my surroundings when Marco nudges me with his foot.

“What are you staring at?”

I shake my head.

“Nothing…actually I was just thinking how nice it is that everything has worked out for everyone.”

Marco takes a sip of his drink and nods in agreement.

“Thank God, I was worried how things would get once school started.”

“Two more weeks…” I mutter. There was nothing I dreaded more than being stuck at a desk for eight hours all over again.

“Two more weeks.” Marco echoes with a sigh.

“So uh…” I clear my throat. “When it comes to us…”

Marco notices the change in my tone. “Yeah?”

“Are you…going to be my ‘one and only’?” I smile shyly at him and wiggle my eyebrows.

Marco sets down his drink hard enough that the liquid splashes up and out the sides.

“Are you trying to say that I wasn’t your one and only before?” he looks so offended that I crack up. “Is this your roundabout way of asking me to be your boyfriend?”

I try to catch my breath and wipe away a stray tear. “You got me.”

He loops a finger in the waistband of my shorts to yank me closer and softens his expression.

“Of course I will.”

I pull him into a deep kiss, and we angle ourselves so Marco’s back faces the windows, obscuring us from the potentially nosy gazes of our friends outside. I start to realize how drunk I am once I slide my hands under his shirt simply for the hell of it. This is the part of me that has zero inhibitions and should probably be stopped before I do something bad. Unfortunately, Marco when he’s drunk is no better; he deepens our kiss, running his tongue along the inside of my mouth while his hand manages to slip down the back of my shorts _and_ underwear to grab a handful of my ass (does he have no shame?!).

I nearly jump out of my skin when I feel his fingers roam further into my pants, and I can’t find the voice to remind him that we’re in fucking plain view of everyone.

The sound of someone clearing their voice loudly behind me makes us both scream.

I whip around to see Sasha staring us down with her hands on her hips and a look of pure disappointment on her face.

“Look. I get it, you’re in the honeymoon phase, but the kitchen isn’t even a good place to have sex.” She breaks into a dorky smile and adjusts her ponytail. “But…if you two were to disappear upstairs for ten minutes or so, I don’t think anyone would notice…” She raises an eyebrow at her offer and crosses her arms. “I’ll cover for you.”

Now, normally I’m not entertained by Sasha’s cock-blocking habits, but this time she’s managed to come through in a good way.

Marco smirks and proceeds to drag me to the staircase, barely allowing time for me to yell ‘thank you’ over my shoulder. We dash up the stairs only to end up winded at the landing, and push ourselves into the first bathroom we find on the second floor. Marco’s drunk giggling fills the room as he closes the door behind him and I find myself laughing along with him before he kisses me again.

What the fuck were we doing?

This is the most fun I think I’ve ever had, and it’s so weird to be this happy that it doesn’t feel real. Like the boy I’m holding in my hands can’t possibly be this perfect, but he is. Even though he smells like lemonade and tequila I still can’t stop kissing him or touching him. What was it that Mikasa said…I needed to watch him closer?

With the flush in his cheeks and the shine in his eyes, Marco’s glowing. I can’t tell how drunk he is simply by looking, but the smile on his face tells me all I need to know. And fuck, do I love this boy.

I want to see the sides of him that I don’t know about. I want to know everything, hear every noise he has to make, feel what he feels. I want to breach that small space we’ve had between each other all these years.

Thanks to the daring effects of mixing tequila and vodka, I unzip Marco’s shorts, yank down his boxers, and drop to my knees without a single thought coursing through my mind. It isn’t until I process Marco’s horrified expression before taking him into my mouth as deep as I can when I realize that maybe I’m just a sadistic person. That, or I should honestly stop drinking Ymir’s Backwards Thongs. Clearly they do things to me.

“Jean?! What are you doing?” Marco squeaks and his hand instinctively flies to the back of my head.

I pull back with a lewd pop and hold him with my hand. “What the fuck does it look like I’m doing?”

“But—” he breaks off with a moan when I go back to it, and I can feel him grow in my mouth.

To be honest, I have no idea what I’m doing. I can only do what I think would feel good and hope for the best. As long as there’s no teeth, it should be smooth sailing…I hope.

Marco quickly relaxes, burying his hands in my hair and leaning against the counter while I alternate between sucking and jerking him off. Judging from the heavy rise and fall of his breathing and the moans that echo through the bathroom, I think I’m doing a pretty good job. I bob my head up as I swallow against his length, forcing a shudder to rip through his body and tears begin to gather in the corners of my eyes. I was never good at deep-throating popsicles as a child, why did I think I could handle something twice that size?

“Jean…” when he moans my name I’m reminded of the ache between my legs, spurred on by Marco’s…vocal display of affection. I wouldn’t be surprised if they heard us from downstairs, considering I can imagine them lurking by the staircase.

Surprisingly, this isn’t as gross as I thought it would be. It’s more of a fight with my gag reflex as I try to take him deeper than anything else, and that becomes even more of a struggle when Marco starts moving his hips. I know he can’t help it, but he’s overestimating my abilities, and I have to squeeze his thighs to keep him still.

In curiosity, I look up and _God help me_.

With red cheeks and heavy-lidded eyes that basically spell out ‘I want to fuck you’, Marco stares down at me with a breathless smile. He strokes my hair with his right hand, pushing it away from my forehead before finding a better grip near the top.

Whatever blood that was left in my brain rushes south for the winter and the next thing I know my hand is in my own pants.

He is too much to handle. _Seriously._

The final stretch is rough, considering I was so close to coming without Marco having to do anything but fucking breath and moan my name. I can start to taste the bitter precum in my mouth as he gets closer and closer to orgasm. I lick up his shaft and a moan makes its way out of me, somehow fueling Marco’s libido more. I can feel the coiling in my gut as my muscles clench and unclench, along with the twitching in Marco’s hips as I increase suction and fondle his balls with one hand and clench his ass with the other. I know I’m driving him crazy, pulling him in and out of an orgasm when he was so desperate to let it go.

“ _Jean wait…_ ” his grip tightens on my hair, but instead of pushing farther in he pulls my head back with a small yank.

I almost snort. _Wait? Why the fuck would I do that?_

I don’t listen to him, instead I speed up the pace so my orgasm isn’t too premature. I briefly take my mouth off when my orgasm rips through me, but I go right back to it before Marco can get impatient.

I pull back ever so slightly to tease the base again, but little did I know that Marco was trying to warn me. The second I pull my head back, he comes with a loud groan and only half of it actually goes in my mouth. Momentarily blinded, I fall back and wipe away what I can with my hand and swallow the rest. I wasn’t expecting so much to come out since we had just been at it this morning…

“Jean I’m so sorry!” Marco is the first to act once it happens. As he catches his breath, he wipes my face with toilet paper and I can’t help but laugh at how ridiculous this all was. Not only was I covered in his cum, I was covered in my own and sitting on Reiner’s fucking bathroom floor, what a classic.

“It’s okay Marco.”

“Wait…did you swallow?!”

“What else would I do…” I zip up my pants and climb to my feet with a smug expression. “It’s an expression of my love for you.”

I don’t expect him to pull me into a tight hug. He kisses my cheek and nuzzles me for a brief second before pulling back.

“We need to get back downstairs before they notice.”

I roll my eyes. “If they haven’t already.”

Once we finish cleaning up we head back downstairs holding hands, only to find that the house is still empty. It seems like our disappearance went famously unnoticed; not like we had anything to complain about.

“Man…what will our mothers think?” I scratch the back of my head with my free hand and throw Marco a questioning look.

Marco smirks, tightening his grip on me.

“’It’s about damn time’, probably.”

* * *

  

A few days later I decide to spend the night at Marco’s. Camping out at his house for the entire day is nothing new and Mom couldn’t be more ecstatic than to have me out of the house. As a family, we’ve been taking baby steps. We aren’t skirting around the topic of their divorce, nor are they keeping me in the dark about anything anymore. Dad will be moving into the city since it’s more convenient for his work while Mom and I get to stay in the good ole suburbs. He promises he’ll meet with me more often to keep up, and I honestly believe him. Deep down, I know their split is the healthiest thing they could do, for both themselves and me. No more forcing themselves to be civil in my presence and shouting behind closed doors.

And I think I’m okay with this. I guess I’m in the acceptance stage where things are just settling in and I’m processing what’s going to happen after this.

Which is good, because I want to have the mindset to help Marco in his predicament.

While we lay around in the living room, idly flipping through channels and tossing a throw pillow across the room towards each other, Sheila is on a date with her boyfriend. Tonight is the night she’s introducing him to me, and unfortunately, we all have to eat dinner with them.

Marco plays it cool, like he isn’t livid that the man is coming over. Okay, he doesn’t hate the guy that much; it’s more of a mild discomfort at the idea of an older man, who could become part of his family, trespassing in his house. I guess he is pretty territorial.

“You should just pee on all the things that are yours, and then he’ll get the message.” I end up thinking out loud, and manage to toss the pillow into his stomach.

“I think that’s a horrible idea, and my bladder isn’t that big.”

“Just pee on Sheila.” I offer.

“What is wrong with you?” Marco laughs, chucking the pillow too far left and onto the floor. I try to reach for it, stretching out on the couch, but my arms aren’t long enough and I give up half-way. I guess the game was getting a little old.

My stomach growls as ridiculously loud as it can, and even Marco hears it from across the room.

“Where is your mother? I’m starving!” I flip onto my back and groan. “She promised she’d feed me!”

“Otherwise you wouldn’t have come.” Marco mutters. “Seems like a pretty long movie to me…”

“Yeah, we watched like, two.”

“Ugh.” I hear Marco flop onto his back and sigh. A small grumble comes from his stomach right before the key turns in the front door.

I nearly jolt upright, but I force myself to stay still and keep my eyes on Marco. He feigns to be asleep on the couch, so I mimic him in a sad attempt to avoid this entire situation.

I hear Sheila talking in a low, smooth voice, which is followed by a deeper and fuller voice. There’s the sound of laughter followed by footsteps approaching.

“Are they asleep?” the man asks.

Sheila doesn’t respond, and instead I hear a whack followed by Marco yelping. My eyes fly open in time to see Sheila beating Marco mercilessly with one of the pillows.

“You. Dare. Fall. Asleep. Before. Dinner?” She enunciates between each hit, but the wide smile on her face makes her look somehow innocent. “You must not be hungry?”

“Sheila I’m dying from hunger where have you been?” I hang one arm off the couch and jut out my bottom lip. “This is child abuse…”

“I’m pretty sure I’m the one being abused?” Marco snatches the pillow from her and stuffs it behind his back.

“Yes, yes I’ll cook in a minute. I have someone to introduce you to, Jean.”

Ugh.

I sit up slowly and finally catch a glimpse of the mystery man.

My first thought? Generic.

His dark hair doesn’t stand out, but the questionable barely-passing-as-a-moustache look makes him appear a little older than Sheila. I don’t know how I feel about the chin hair either. If you go for a beard, you have to go full beard.

“Nile, this is my second son Jean.” Sheila smiles warmly at the two of us, and I play nice by shaking the guy’s hand and maintaining eye contact.

“Nice to meet you Jean.” He says and gives me a firm shake.

“Same to you.”

“Okay, I guess I need to get cooking or these boys will get ravenous…” Sheila claps her hands together and turns to head down the hallway. “Nile I’m going to need another set of hands!”

“Of course.” Nile moves to follow her, but hesitates. “Oh, Marco we bought tickets to Overture like you recommended. It was pretty good, you should have come with us.”

Marco scrolls through his phone, offering Nile a small smile that I can see as fake.

“Maybe next time.”

Nile disappears into the kitchen, taking the tension with him, and I whip around to look at Marco.

“You were supposed to go with them?”

“Something about a family gathering? No way am I going to be a third wheel. I wanted to be here with you.” Marco tosses down his phone and shakes his head.

“If you asked I would’ve come with you.”

“I didn’t want to go.”

I fall back against the pillows. He’s being passive-aggressive again, which means I’m triggering a defense mechanism.

“Why don’t you just tell Sheila the truth? I mean, your feelings are really important–”

“Jean.”

“What?”

Marco levels his gaze with me. “What do you think would happen if I told Mom I wasn’t happy with this?”

I cock my head to the side. “She’d probably end it.”

“Exactly. And that’s not what she wants. It won’t make her happy.” His voice takes a somber tone. “I just need more time to adjust to it, that’s all.”

Time to adjust, huh. I guess that’s the same with me and my parents. We all need a little buffer period to accept what reality is, but if you’re miserable the entire time…was it worth it?

I fall silent, deciding that vocalizing my opinion would probably do more harm than good in this situation. Instead I pick up the remote and start skimming through the other channels, looking for anything that could distract us until dinner was ready.

 

When Sheila calls us into the dining room for dinner, I nearly trip over my own feet trying to beat Marco to the table. I can smell Sheila’s chicken parmesan from a block away, and it is by far my favorite dish she’s ever made. I don’t know if she did this on purpose, but I plan on wolfing down as much as my body will let me tonight.

Marco and I share a mutual look of understanding before filling our plates.

“Little monsters.” Sheila drops her chin into her palm and watches us with an adoring expression. I’m sure nothing makes her happier than watching us devour her meals, and that bright shine in her eyes reminds me of Marco. They both have the same loving aura that makes me feel like I’m actually a part of their family.

I stop stuffing my face to look at Marco.

Of course, there are times when he looks like his mother, and times like now when he looks like a demon; I thought I was eating too fast, but the way food disappears off his plate suggest witchcraft is a legitimate thing.

Sheila and Nile have their own conversation, knowing full well neither me nor Marco wanted to (or could) participate in it. We both manage to go through two servings along with the entire pack of sweet Hawaiian rolls set aside for us. I’m glad she made enough for leftovers, since I plan on eating this in the morning too.

“Satisfied?” Sheila asks us with a smug smile.

“Yup.” I pat my stomach and sigh. “Want help washing the dishes?”

Sheila shakes her head. “No no darling, I’m good thank you. You two can go back to your couch.”

Nile just smiles at the two of us as we leave. I’m sure a part of him is terrified; we certainly do not eat like normal teenagers, and only Sheila and my mother have glorified it as something adorable. To others we probably look savage.

The thought makes me snicker under my breath. It would be hilarious if we scared him away like that.

I share my thoughts with Marco as we get comfortable on the couch again, this time tangling our legs together so we can lay side by side as we watch TV. Marco finds the concept hilarious, and he laughs through the important part of Cutthroat kitchen when they announce the first challenge. The participants scramble for eggs and flour, so I’m assuming it’s some kind of baked dessert that they have to make; Marco thinks it’s fried chicken.

“They would’ve grabbed chicken if they were!” I elbow him in the chest in annoyance. “Did you see any chicken?!”

“That guy just did!”

“Then why are they grabbing fruit and sugar?”

Marco bumps me back and I almost fall off the couch. “Maybe it’s chicken fruit pie.”

I roll my eyes and go back to the show, watching each character sabotage one another until the end of the round.

“Chicken pot pie?” I ask in disbelief at the finished products. “How the fuck…”

“I told you!” He pulls me closer to his chest and I can feel him nuzzle the back of my neck. I scoot back into his embrace and let out a contented sigh.

“If we were on that show I’d sabotage the fuck out of you.”

Marco chuckles. “And I’d still win.”

“Whatever.”

The next round starts, but I’m not as absorbed in it as the last one. I scroll through my phone and I think Marco’s fallen asleep behind me. His steady breathing puts me at ease as the living room grows darker with every passing minute. I can hear someone washing dishes in the kitchen; the clink of the glasses and the sound of running water leaks from the kitchen, along with the quiet voices of Sheila and her boyfriend. Everything is so calm, almost like a dream unfolding. It feels like a memory I’d want to save and put into a scrapbook for the future, a memory of this peaceful suburban life with my boyfriend on the couch watching cooking shows…when did I get so old?

Of course, perfect moments weren’t made to last.

Marco shuffles behind me, indicating that he’s awake, and he blows a gust of wind down my spine.

When I hear approaching footsteps, I think it’s Sheila coming into the room.

“Wow you two look…close?” Nile moves around the side of the couch to look down at us, a humorous expression on his face. “Aren’t you being a little too friendly?”

“I’d hope so, considering he’s my boyfriend.” Marco speaks up from behind me, and I’m a little surprised by his blunt tone. I think the sarcasm goes over Nile’s head, judging by the way he narrows his eyes.

“You can’t be serious.” He lets out a singular, forced laugh that doesn’t fail at pissing me off. What was so fucking funny? “You two are dating, for real?”

“Is there something wrong with that?” Marco shifts behind me, and I can feel him sit upright. I don’t dare to move as I stare Nile down. I feel like we’ve just been thrust into a heavy, rocky environment and one move could send things out of control. This Nile guy…he isn’t looking too friendly anymore. That fucking smirk on his face…

I feel my hands curl into fists.

“It’s weird as hell.” Nile stuffs his hands into his pockets, lolls his head back, and gives Marco a shake of his head. “I never pegged you as a fag, Marco.”

My mouth drops open in shock. As I’m repeating the line in my head, double-checking to make sure I heard him correctly, Marco is on his feet and in Nile’s face.

“What the hell did you say to me?”

Marco’s voice draws Sheila out of the kitchen, right in time to see Nile shove Marco back.

“Both of you make me fucking sick, can’t you learn to do that somewhere else?”

Something snaps, and the next thing I know I’m eye-to-eye with Nile, ready to swing the first punch. I don’t care if the guy has twenty years or more over me, this is ridiculous!

“What the fuck is your problem man? This isn’t even your fucking house!”

“ALL OF YOU CUT IT OUT!” Sheila roars and steps between us, managing to shove Marco and me back along with Nile, using brute strength I didn’t know she had.

“Mom are you serious?! Did you hear the shit that he just said–”

“I did. Now go upstairs with Jean.”

Marco nearly shouts at her, and I can understand his frustration. “ _Mom!_ ”

Sheila shoots both of us a stern, dangerous look. “I said upstairs. Now Marco.”

Her words leave whatever anger I had left fizzling to nothing in pure fear. I’ve never, ever, seen Sheila raise her voice or look this angry. I don’t think Marco has either, considering he starts backing up, pulling me with him to the stairs. We both throw Nile a venomous glare before following Sheila’s instructions and climbing up to the second floor.

Marco stops at the top to lean over the railing, clearly listening to whatever was going on downstairs. At first it’s quiet, but then I can hear Sheila shouting again. Nile yells back, but their words are jumbled together in the back and forth, and I can only scowl at the wall as the argument is lost to me.

I can’t believe this is happening.

Of course, I knew there were still homophobic assholes out in the world, but this guy had the audacity to say that? Who the fuck did he think he was, trespassing in someone’s house when he wasn’t even welcome?

I dig my nails into my arms as I keep them crossed over my chest, watching Marco as the screaming downstairs dies down. There’s some shuffling, stomping, and then the front door opens before slamming shut, shaking the entire house.

The tension in Marco’s back doesn’t slacken, in fact it gets worse when the house falls into silence. We’re both scared; we have no idea what the hell is happening, or if Sheila is okay.

We wait. Marco starts pacing.

A few minutes pass. Eventually, Marco gets impatient and moves to go back downstairs, only to stop when Sheila appears at the bottom of the staircase. I lean over the railing to watch her come up to us, an apologetic look in her eyes.

“I am so sorry you boys had to experience that.” She looks at the two of us before pulling us into a hug. “I had no idea he had that sort of attitude…it was careless of me.”

“There’s no way you could have known that.” I mutter as we all move apart. “It’s not your fault.”

Sheila smiles at me, but it’s fragile. “Thank you Jean.”

Marco hangs his head low, remaining silent. Sheila tilts her head to the side and tries to catch a glimpse of his expression.

“Baby? I’m really sorry, okay?”

“Why are you apologizing?” his voice breaks, but he lifts his head to look her in the eye. Sheila plants a delicate hand against his cheek.

“Because I should have known things weren’t going to work out.”

“I just wanted you to be happy.” Marco sucks in a breath and he sounds like he’s in tears, “So I didn’t want you to sacrifice anymore things for me…”

I slowly back away from the staircase and into Marco’s room without being noticed. This is their moment, and I think they should have spoken about their real feelings quite some time ago, but if now is their chance I don’t want to be intrusive.

I shut the door to Marco’s room and navigate through it in the dark, rolling onto his bed to stare up at the ceiling in a tired daze.

I guess…this is the end of Sheila’s relationship with Nile.

What a way to end it too…I wonder how long they’d been dating. It wasn’t exactly a shame that this came to an end, consider the guy’s the opinion towards Marco and I, or for gay people in general, and any ill will towards Marco was enough to earn Sheila’s wrath for eternity. Marco finally got his wish, that the source of instability in their household was getting the boot and his mom would no longer be seeing him, but this wasn’t the way he wanted it to happen. This wasn’t the outcome he was looking for.

I just hope that Sheila doesn’t give up.

If she seeks the love of another person, she deserves to find it. Marco and I are adults, and we can deal with the harsh reality of what is to come. I’ve considered the idea that Mom may be interested in, or even seeing, another man and that’s okay. There are some things we just have to accept.

Marco and Sheila have been through so much together, so it’s natural that they’ve formed a unique sense of dependence on one another, but I think now is the time to understand that things will never be what they once were. I want the two of them to be comfortable with whatever choices they have to make…honestly I just want the best for everyone.

Except that Nile guy, fuck him.

I don’t know how long I lie in the dark, but eventually the door creaks open and Marco walks in, his figure illuminated by the moonlight filtering through his window. I remain silent as he approaches me, dropping beside me on the edge of the bed with a tired sigh.

“…so what happens now?” I break the silence after a few minutes.

“Mom went over to your house. She’s spending the night with Emma.” Marco runs a hand through his hair. “She’s ending things with Nile and told me not to worry about it.”

“Which you probably are going to do anyway.” I lean back on my hands, casting him a sidelong glance. “You do know that none of this is your fault and it probably happened for a reason, right?”

“If you want to say it like that…” Marco’s voice is quiet. “Yeah, I know but…”

“No buts. It’s out of our hands now.” I dig my fingers into the comforter, pulling the fabric into my fists. “I’m sure…it’s better this way. Sheila just has some things to sort out, like we did.”

That makes Marco fall silent.

The dark, depressing atmosphere is a little suffocating, to be honest. I’m tired of being sad and watching things explode around me without any sense of control. Today’s supposed to be fun, I mean I know I’ve spent the night at Marco’s more times than I can count, but I wanted it to be different than the others. I wanted to make him happy today.

“Jean can you just stay here? I’ll be back.” Marco pushes off the bed and gives me a pained smile.

I blink back at him. “Where are you going? It’s late Marco…”

“Just for a walk, I’ll be right back I promise.” Marco drops his phone into his pocket and makes his way out the door. “I just need to think about a few things, I’m really sorry.”

And like that he’s gone.

I couldn’t even tell him that I didn’t mind at all. That what he was doing was completely understandable, and I that I preferred for him to figure it out on his own if that’s what he needed.

I listen to him go down the stairs and eventually out the front door, leaving me in a silent house.

With a sigh, I collapse back on his bed and stare at the ceiling again. The shadows of the trees leave thin streaks across the otherwise bare paint; the open window lets the summer breeze drift through the room and I can hear the cicadas screeching outside.

I wonder where Marco’s going.

He might not be going anywhere in particular, just wandering until he calms down, but where will he end up?

I’m more worried about what’s going through his head than his safety. Trost was known for being a town with one of the lowest crime rates, despite the lack of police cars patrolling the neighborhood.

There isn’t much I can do for Marco aside from being here. I don’t know why he bothered asking me to stay, like did he think I was going to leave?

I still don’t understand what love is per se, but I know that I love Marco. I know that you shouldn’t leave someone who’s already feeling abandoned and hurt. Tonight was one of the shittiest turn of events of the summer, and it managed to come right at the end of our vacation. I’m worried about Sheila, but I know she’s in good hands. I have no doubt my mom is getting her drunk as I lie across Marco’s bed, and it may not be the best kind of comforting that my Mom can give, but she tries.

What kind of comforting can I give Marco?

I can’t give him copious amounts of booze to drown his sorrows, nor would I want to. I’m not used to being the support system, but I know I have to step up. I want to step up.

Solid evidence that I’m here for him, but what do I have left? What did I have left to show Marco how much I love him?

I slowly sit up as I let my mind wander.

The silence surrounds me with a strangely calming feeling. It’s like I can finally think; the cogs and pieces I refused to use spin in place as think of what to do next.

By the time the front door opens again downstairs, I’ve reached a conclusion to my inner conflict. I have no idea how much time has passed since he left, but the sound of his footsteps on the landing allows me to fully relax again.

Marco pauses by the doorway, peering at me with a wary expression.

I stare back at him calmly, but neither of us speak.

He walks over and rejoins my side on the bed. He tilts his head back and sighs.

“Jean…” Marco turns to look at me, but my expression makes him hesitate. “I…”

I hold his gaze as I slide my hand across the sheets to take his. He stares down at my gesture, and I can see how he’s fighting to come up with something to say.

But that’s the thing. I don’t want him to worry about what to say tonight.

I want to give him…hell, I want to give us some buffer room to just feel instead of think.

I take advantage of Marco’s detachment; he’s too deep in thought to counter-attack when I whip around and throw both of us to the floor. We roll around a couple of times and I manage to pin him to the floor by straddling his waist; a coy smile spreads across my face as Marco stares up at me in defeat.

“That’s cheating…” He says, both arms falling limp at his sides as if he’s given up.

“You’re supposed to always be on guard. I strike when you least expect it.” I duck down to peck him on the lips and raise an eyebrow. “You’re gonna give up just like that? Just because you weren’t ready?”

“Is there a prize if I win?”

I roll my eyes. “Maybe. But that depends on–”

I’m cut off by Marco flipping me onto my back with twice the strength he had a minute ago. I try to roll away before he can pin me down, but he grabs me by my legs and drags me back into place with a laugh that sends chills down my spine.

“This is cheating!” I shout as I claw at the carpet for any sort of grip to help me get away. I’m pulled back into place, pinned underneath Marco with his entire body hovering over mine, and I realize that I’ve royally gotten my ass kicked.

“Do you give up?” He pauses with his lips less than an inch from mine, and I know he’s teasing me. I bite back a smart-ass response and tilt my head up to press our lips together. He lowers his body against mine, pressing us into the carpet, and I weave my fingers through his hair.

This was supposed to be a wrestling match, but…it was turning into something else.

Maybe Sasha was right and we were in the honeymoon phase, but I couldn’t see anything wrong with that. Even as I’m pulling Marco’s shirt over his head and mapping out his smooth skin with my fingers, it doesn’t feel like something I’ll ever get tired off. I think I’ll always be greedy with my time with him, no matter how much time passes us by.

Marco’s hands skim up my sides and over my stomach, and I can feel my breath stutter under his touches. My skin burns under his fingertips and my heart pounds in my chest loud enough for both of us to hear it.

I still have a chance for a comeback. If I could just knock him over right now…

All resolve vanishes when Marco kisses me again, using his tongue to draw out a low moan from me. I reach up, a little hastily, and unzip Marco’s shorts while we make out; he does the same for me, a smile interrupting our kiss for a brief moment.

“What do you want to do tonight? Considering Mom’s not home…” his voice is warm and soft, but I know he has no intention of being gentle with me. Being with a living paradox can get a little dangerous. While he waits for an answer, he plants kisses across my chest and moves down to my stomach, pinching skin lightly between his teeth and forcing a hiss from my lungs.

“Well…since you asked…” I wiggle underneath him so I can reach into my back pocket. I hold up the package and wink at Marco seductively. “I thought we could try it.”

Marco takes the condom and gives me a wide-eyed stare.

“A-are you sure? You’re okay with that?”

“Of course I am, it’s you.” I let out a huff and smile at him. “I’ve been carrying that thing around, waiting for the moment I’d finally get laid.” I break into laughter, but Marco makes a sour face. “I thought you’d make a move on me earlier.”

“I’m a gentleman.” He mutters, and I run my fingers through his dark hair.

“Yes, indeed you are.”

“Jean, are you sure you’re okay with this?”

“Yes, Marco.”

“Really?”

I frown. “If you’re not comfortable with it, then we won’t…”

“No, I want to, trust me. I’m just making sure…”

“Marco if you ask me again I'm going to knee you in the dick.” I give him a wicked smile and he doesn’t utter another word. We move back to the bed before picking up where we left off, shrugging out of our clothes and tangling ourselves together in the sheets.

Now, I did my research a few days ago on how things work between two guys and everything, so I know what I’m getting myself into. It’s fairly straight-forward and nothing I need to worry about, since Marco’s so considerate all of the time. The only thing I’m not thrilled about is the idea that Marco’s above-average dick is supposed to somehow fit into me.

But that’s a bridge to cross when we get there, right?

I go with the flow without thinking about it. I cast my worries aside and busy myself with my feelings in the moment; his hands passing over my bare skin, his lips against mine, our bodies pressed flush together in the dark…

Marco’s fingers glide down my spinal cord, sending shivers through my body, and I can feel him move down to plant more kisses on my abdomen. He keeps going and plants a few kisses at the base of my dick, and I can feel it twitch to full size in his hand. I don’t hold back my voice when he wraps his lips around it, surrounding me with a wet, hot suction that makes my back arch off the bed.

“Ugh…” I tighten my grip in his hair and close my eyes, focusing on the way he massages the inside of my thighs with his thumb and moves his head up and down in a perfect way. As I give in to the waves of pleasure moving through my body, my legs unconsciously spread a little wider, and my breath starts to come out in quick pants.

Thoroughly distracted, I don’t notice Marco’s hand on my ass until his finger hooks around and presses into me, slick enough to slide in with ease and force a rather unruly yelp out of me. Although I’m not surprised by the action, I’m certainly not expecting the feeling. I squirm as now two fingers explore inside me, and I suck in a sharp breath when he brushes against a sensitive spot.

“Fuck, Marco…” I pull him closer so we can kiss again, and he starts adding and subtracting digits as he continues, thrusting into me in a way that makes me tangle my hands into the sheets. He goes back to sucking me off, feeding off the loud whines I give him when he rubs at my prostate, and I end up coming hard down his throat with a lewd groan that seems to flip a switch in Marco’s mind.

He abruptly pulls back and brings the condom wrapper to his mouth, tearing it open with his teeth. He winks at me as he moves to put it on and I can only watch him breathlessly, my mind still a little blank from my recent orgasm.

There’s nothing to be afraid of…right?

Marco crawls back between my legs and I press my knees on either side of his waist, keeping him in place. We go back to kissing and I close my eyes in anticipation. I don’t even care if I can taste myself on his lips, in fact that’s the farthest thing from my mind. The only thing I’m thinking about is his next move.

He doesn’t go in right away, instead he distracts me for a while longer until I forget what he’s doing, but then I feel something press against me, and it’s very different from his fingers. I let out a heavy breath as the pressure intensifies, and a deep moan forces its way out of me when Marco thrusts in the tip.

It’s like fire coursing through my body and searing through my stomach. I try to relax under him, but I can’t help but whimper in pain as he pushes in deeper.

“Am I hurting you?” Marco brushes the hair out of my face, and he looks worried. My biggest fear is that he’s going to stop.

“No, I’m good…just…go slow.” I kiss him on the nose and focus on breathing in small, shallow breaths until I get used to the feeling of something inside of me.

Thank God Sheila isn’t home.

The sound of the bed creaking coupled with the sound of our moans can probably be heard from downstairs or even the backyard, but I doubt we’ll ever try to have sex when either of our parents are home. That’s just too risky.

After I get through the pain at the beginning, everything starts to feel really good. For a virgin, Marco seems to know what he’s doing, and I make sure to leave scratches across his back as a memoir for his first time. Aside from the brief pain as he pulls out and slams in, the shockwaves of it blend to the point where pain and pleasure amplify and leave me crying out in his bed.

Each thrust gets deeper, and I gasp against him as he rocks us at his own perfect rhythm in the dark. I admit the sound of skin slapping against skin isn’t the most attractive, but it doesn’t bother me at all in the moment. I focus on Marco’s movements, his intakes of breath, the sensation that shoots through me when he adjusts his position.

Fuck, this is what I’ve been craving.

It’s almost as if I’m too happy; I can’t help but smile like an idiot as I force air in and out of my lungs in heavy pants, or as I pull Marco against my chest reveling in the fact that he is mine and no one else’s. There was no longer any mental or physical space left between us, almost as if we were fusing into one. Our bodies are slick with sweat and precum and it doesn’t feel gross or uncomfortable…it feels fucking amazing.

“Jean, are you close?” his breath tickles against the side of my neck, and it sounds like he’s reaching his limit too.

Instead of answering him with words, I let out an inarticulate “Hnngh” when he thrusts against my prostate. I feel like I’m unraveling at the seams, falling apart piece by piece in his hands, and I’m okay with that. I can’t be embarrassed by the noises I’m making because one, I’m too into it to care anymore, and two, Marco’s doing the same. We’ve bridged the gap of insecurities, and I know I can trust Marco with both my heart and my body; I hope he can do the same with me.

My orgasm ends up taking me by surprise. I thought I’d be able to last a little longer, but Marco abruptly pulls out before slamming deep inside of me in a way that makes my vision scatter for a brief second. I squeeze Marco against me when I cry out, and his movements stop abruptly when I tighten around him. He lets out a low groan and drops his head down, pushing into me one last time before pulling out completely.

Marco collapses beside me on the bed and pulls me close to his chest. I settle against his collarbone and struggle to catch my breath after what felt like a marathon; we lie in silence for a couple of minutes and I almost fall asleep in the comfort of his arms.

“Are you sure you were a virgin?” Although he can’t see my expression, I wrinkle my forehead in a scowl.

“I’m pretty sure.” Marco’s laughter shakes the both of us. “Why? Did I do okay?”

“Better than okay…” I mutter under my breath, but he still hears me. _Porn can only teach you so much…if anything…_

“I’m glad…I was so scared that I’d hurt you.”

I close my eyes and listen to the steadying rhythm of his heart. “You did good, Freckles.”

He strokes my back with his thumb, and the soothing gesture makes me want to curl into a ball and sleep for the rest of the night. I fight the inner urge and run my fingers along Marco’s jaw.

“I love you.” I tell him.

He pulls back to look at my expression. He breaks into a breathtaking smile.

“I love you too, Jean. I always have.”

“How long have you been in love with me?”

Marco looks up at the ceiling. “How long…hmm…” He mouths some numbers to himself as he starts counting. “I mean it’s hard to tell exactly when…for a long time I was passing it off as just really liking you as my friend. I thought there was something wrong with me.”

I shift a little so I can cup his cheek in my hand. He sounds…nervous. Even so, I want him to tell me everything he can so I can understand him. I don’t say anything; I just let him ramble on, and I think he appreciates that.

“I didn’t understand my feelings at all, and then I got so scared that I hid them from you for as long as I can remember…I think I officially started liking you when we were nine or ten. I didn’t even tell my mom, although I wanted to. I wanted to know what it meant if I didn’t like girls…”

“I’m such an idiot.” I sigh, bringing a hand up to my forehead. “And here I thought I was the one with one-sided feelings…it took me so long to talk to you because I was afraid you’d reject me.”

Marco nodded. “That’s the one thing that scared me the most. Sometimes I couldn’t even sleep at night.”

“For future reference, if we ever need it…” I level my gaze and take Marco’s hand tightly in my own. “I could never hate or reject you. You could stab me and I’d still forgive you.”

Marco blinks back at me. “You could kill me and I’d still forgive you.”

I can’t help but laugh at his serious expression. “You’d still be dead but fine I get it. So no more secrets, okay? Even if you think it’ll upset me, tell me. I’ll do the same for you?”

“It’s a deal.” Marco murmurs. “I promise.”

I stare at our hands intertwined on the sheets. Everything feels new again, yet not so different. It’s as if I’ve opened a new chapter to my life that I never knew existed. Marco’s presence is so familiar and comforting that it makes falling asleep easy. I know that in his eyes and heart, I’m loved much more than I probably deserve. But as long as we have each other, I’m sure there’s nothing I’d rather have to call my own.

Maybe, just maybe…falling in love with your best friend isn’t a bad thing after all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow we’ve reached the end! I just looked back and realized we started this a little more than two years ago, which is so weird to think. I have to say this has been such a great story to edit and there were so many times that some of my comments were merely me pointing out how cute they were written in a certain scene or whatnot. Thank you all so much for taking the time to read this and for all your comments! We will hopefully be back on track with our other Jeanmarco story, Wings, soon and we also have another Naruto fic in the works. Not sure when the next update will be, as I’ll be in Japan for the next two months and may not have time to edit as often, if at all. Ah and did I mention you all still have an epilogue to this to look forward to? ;) (I’ll try to get this out to you asap!)  
> ^^^  
> Thank you again to all of you who love Jean and Marco as much as us! Your support is always appreciated and I'm sorry it took so long for this chapter to come out! It is the longest, but it's also the last one in Jean's POV (I can't believe I have to say goodbye to Jean's amazing inner dialogue...) Anyway, I'm going to save my goodbyes for the final chapter/epilogue, so hang in there with us!!


	12. Epilogue: And In the End (Marco's POV)

 

Jean furrows his brow in what feels like unnecessary concentration as he examines the menu in front of him. Both of us know what he’s going to end up ordering, and we both know he’s avoiding my gaze because he’s pouting.

The waitress was hitting on me.

I didn’t notice it, but Jean makes it seem like it was painfully obvious; even though he’s annoyed I think it’s adorable.

I wait for him to say something in the meantime, directing my attention out the window to the people outside. Being a Saturday, it’s natural that there are a lot of people downtown for lunch. Like us, people seem to be on dates or hanging out in groups by the coffee shop down the street; I recognize a few of them from school and hope no one approaches us.

“Ugh.” Jean throws down his menu and pushes his hair back with a groan. “I’m just going to get chicken tenders.”

I swallow my “I knew it” and simply nod to acknowledge that I heard him.

“Why are you smiling like that?”

His comment makes me laugh. I hadn’t realized I was showing any form of emotion, but I’m not surprised in the slightest. Simply being with him is enough to change everything.

“I’m happy.”

Jean raises an eyebrow. “What are you so happy about Freckles?”

“That I’m here with you.” It’s so corny that it makes me laugh again, but Jean holds a perfectly neutral expression on his face.

“We’re dating aren’t we? So of course I’m going to go on dates with you.” He rolls his eyes, and a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “I’m happy you invited me out…”

He falls silent when the waitress returns to take our orders. I pay attention to the way she holds my gaze before purposely brushing her hands over mine as she takes the menu. I frown as I debate whether she’s just friendly or actually flirting with me; by the time I reach a conclusion she’s long gone and back in the kitchen.

“Okay, I think I can see it.” I tell him.

Jean nods, leans back in his chair, and folds his arms across his chest.

“Told you.”

“Why do you sound jealous? You know better.”

Jean threw his hands in the air.

“Pardon me for getting angry that someone else is giving my boyfriend googly eyes! If she touches you again we’re going to fight.”

“Jean…”

“Too bad she doesn’t know you’re super gay. Can I tell her we’re on a date and she needs to leave us alone?”

Despite his serious tone, his joking is too much for me to handle. I drop my head into my hands as I try to control my laughter, and Jean falls silent as he waits for me to finish.

Jean’s jealousy always takes me by surprise.

 

Ever since we were kids he’s pretended not to care, but as we got older I started to notice how much he worries about things. I took advantage of that to see how he felt about me and Mina, all for my own selfish reasons. I was desperate for a reaction, some kind of hint that maybe, just maybe, Jean harbored feelings for me similarly to what I have for him.

I never thought I would be on an actual date with him, let alone be called his boyfriend. I had given up on the idea that Jean would realize how I felt about him.

In reality, I ignored Jean’s feelings and assumed that everything was one-sided. I took on the burden myself, for years, because I was too afraid to tell him my feelings. After we promised to tell each other everything…

When I finally gave in and asked Mom what I should do, she did exactly what I knew she would. She told me, in her soft but straight-forward tone, that I should simply tell him the truth.

_“I’m sure you know as well as I do that Jean can be a little hard-headed, but that boy has a pure heart. He doesn’t address his feelings or talk about them easily…but it’s different with you. He loves you to death, Marco. Whatever you have to say, he will listen. And he will answer you.”_

At the time, her words only made me angrier. I did know that. I did understand that the circumstances were different with me, but that was the problem!

I’m in love with my best friend.

Every day I asked myself the same question and never had an answer. I didn’t want to know the answer.

_“…what if it’s not the same kind of love Mom? What would I do if I ruined everything by being selfish?”_

_“You aren’t being selfish. And you wouldn’t ruin anything.”_ Mom had softened her gaze and took my hands. _“There are so many forms of love out there, and you shouldn’t close yourself off because you’re scared of it. Tell him the truth Marco, and if it takes time to understand your feelings and your relationship, you two will get there.”_

That night she had left for her date, and Jean had made a surprise visit to my house. Her words had both comforted me and left me an absolute wreck. There was no way I could confess now, after I had hurt his feelings and basically avoided him for weeks…there was just no way…

And yet Jean still came and poured his heart out to me.

 

Not only was it so out of character for him, it felt too perfect. Like a dream, or some sick and twisted nightmare where everything would fall apart as soon as I told him. I couldn’t believe he could walk into my house with such a hurt, yet determined look on his face and say what I’d been bottling up for years. No matter how much I avoided him, no matter how much I hurt him, he came to me and said the words I never thought I’d hear from him.

Impossible. Too good to be true. It’s like the world was trying to put my guard down, and it made me wonder…

If I showed him that one, fragmented piece of my heart, would he run away?

“Here’s your order boys!” I barely look up when our plates are dropped off, and my eyes wander back to Jean’s. He stares down at his chicken tenders, looking as though he regretted his decision.

I pick up his plate and switch it with my burger without saying anything. He watches the exchange with wide eyes and a mouth open in shock.

“Marco Bodt don’t you take pity on me.”

“I changed my mind too.” I take a bite and wink at him. “Is that okay with you, _darling_?”

Jean’s face flushes a deep red before he ducks his head down to mumble into his plate. I feel warmth surge through my body at his expression and find myself smiling wider; this boy was too much…

I know I shouldn’t tease him, but sometimes it was out of my control. It’s like I feed off his expressions, especially when they’re over the top and completely unexpected. One of the many things I love about Jean is how I can never tell what’s going on in his mind. I’ve heard that his resting face can be unsettling to strangers, but once you break through that outer shell he brightens up beyond your imagination. To be honest, that part of him scares me as well; I can never gauge how he’s feeling from looks alone, and back when I was confused with my feelings it was impossible for me to see how he felt about me.

In the end, I danced around the subject before trying to run away from it completely.

Labels never mattered to me. Whether I wanted to be his boyfriend or not wasn’t important. I wanted him. I wanted to be able to reach over and touch him, to hold him, to kiss him with everything I had without worrying about the consequences…that was the type of love I wanted. I felt selfish for wanting it. I realized that deep down, I was so possessive over someone that I believed I couldn’t have to the point where I was willing to throw everything away to protect myself. Years of love and trust…years of friendship…how pathetic is that?

At least, I thought labels didn’t matter, but when Jean calls me his boyfriend I can’t stop the pure glee that fills my heart with his words. He’s not afraid to say it out loud, which took some time for him to adjust to saying in front of others, but now he uses it as a proclamation and, sometimes, as a threat.

Jean takes a massive bite out of the burger and hums in satisfaction. I try to ignore the grease running between his fingers and instead start eating my chicken tenders. I really had it bad.

It’s the little things I love the most, like when he wrinkles his nose in his sleep, the little scowl he makes when he drops something, the content sigh that comes when I hug him close in the middle of the night…God there are so many times that make me wonder if I’m stuck in the honeymoon phase. I’m happy when he teases me, even when he wakes me up early in the morning for no reason; the list keeps going on and on.

“Ugh my arteries…”

I look up to see Jean’s empty plate and his defeated expression. He inhaled that burger in such a short amount of time…

“It’s not normal for me to finish before you Freckles. What’s on your mind?” Jean lowers his gaze to meet my stare. I didn’t think I was spacing out that long.

I almost say that nothing is on my mind. I could brush it off, but in the end, it hasn’t gotten me anywhere. If I tell him the truth, at least we can avoid having secrets.

“I’m thinking about the future.” I sigh, dropping my chin into my hand. “College…us…”

Jean nods as he listens, his brow slowly furrowing into its usual scowl.

I test how carefully he’s listening to me. “Our friends…mortgage…kids…”

“Hmm…” Jean drums his fingers on the table before he stops abruptly. “Wait. Kids?”

I grin back at his perplexed expression.

“It’s a lot, right?”

“I guess. I’m not too worried about it. I’ve never really been too concerned about the future.” Jean shrugs before finishing his water and tossing down his napkin.

I frown.

“And why’s that?”

When Jean meets my gaze again, it feels as though he’s staring into my heart; despite the plain, almost blank expression on his face, his eyes tell me everything.

“Because I have you?” he phrases it as if the answer were obvious.

Right.

I blink back at him and start laughing. Despite all these years, I still can’t catch up with him. It’s like he knows exactly what to say to throw me off, and God I can’t…

“Marco…why are you crying?!”

I don’t answer him right away. I focus on wiping the tears of laughter from my eyes and let out a defeated sigh.

“Thank you Jean.”

He leans across the table to get closer.

“For what?” he murmurs.

I wipe away a glob of ketchup from his chin with my thumb, but Jean keeps his expectant reaction in place.

“For loving me.”

Those warm, hazel eyes smile back at me, and I know that I’m so lucky to have someone like him to call home. Someone I can hand my heart and soul over to and never worry about it again. Someone I can love with my entire being.

“And thank you for loving me.”

 

In the end, that’s all we need.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAH IT’S DONE. I can’t believe that this fanfiction was started two years ago, it really doesn’t feel like that long ago. Thank you so much to everyone who has ever read it, commented, or given it a kudos. We appreciate all of you so so much! Thanks for taking this journey with us
> 
> ^^^  
> I'M SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG AND THE EPILOGUE WAS SO SHORT!   
> I actually struggled with Marco's part for so long, but in the end the cheeseball is just a cheeseball!! Again thank you so much to everyone who compliments and supports us, we really appreciate it! I hope I'll be able to write another JeanMarco fic in the near future, so hopefully we will hear from you all again!!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading this! Third fanfic started….I keep telling whatsinthebasement to finish one of these before starting another but whatever. Please share your thoughts and let us know what you think!  
> ^^^  
> She's right, I don't know what I'm doing with my life anymore (IT'S FALLING APART!!!)  
> Anyway, yeah! Feel free to drop us a comment and let me know if you're liking the characters so far! It's my first time writing in first person, but I feel like it comes more naturally to me like this, but then again I don't know...  
> Chapter 2 is gonna be a fun (wet) one!


End file.
